


Revelations and Resolutions

by relic_amaranth



Series: October Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Akward Reader, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gender-neutral Reader, Love Confessions, M/M, October, Other, Prompt Fic, Reader Peril, Reader Recovery, Reader-Insert, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 36,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Thirty-one days is enough time to tell someone you’ve fallen in love with them, right?Wherein you decide to use the month of October to try to tell Castiel you’re in love with him, Sam and Dean and Gabriel try to help (?) from the sidelines, and Castiel is mostly just confused.





	1. Nyctophilia

**Author's Note:**

> (Important note: Set as an alt-season 9-ish)
> 
> Okay, so this requires a tiny explanation given the story is set in October and it is now...July. Basically, last year, I thought that I would again start posting my fics where other people could see them (and actually finish something longform for once). I made a goal: use 32 prompts to write something every day during the month of October, working towards a story theme (shy Reader trying to confess romantic feelings to Castiel) that ended on November 1st. I put it on Tumblr because I figured if no one cared it would just fade away. But people seemed to like it, I certainly liked it, and I enjoyed having some fandom interaction again, so I kept writing until I finished it. Now that I'm maayyyybe doing a sequel this year, I figured it's as good a time as any to put this over here. And also I just like having all my stuff collected in both places. So I hope you enjoy this little Halloween in July.
> 
>  
> 
> tldr: Story is set in October. Each chapter was written to a prompt that can be found as the chapter title. Story is completed but I'm going to go with how I did it before and post one chapter per day. Please enjoy <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizations are made.

 

 

Nighttime is…a conundrum. It’s quiet; peaceful. It’s often pierced with gunfire and hides bloodshed. It can be filled with stars or screams– often both. Being a hunter gives you a unique perspective on the night. It hides you almost as well as the monsters that crawl around within it. Sitting here now, though, under a chilly, partly cloudy Kansas night sky, you’d never know how dangerous the night can be.

You sigh, expelling breath you can see into air you can feel, and stare up at what light you can see. _Star light, star bright…_ you think absently, because there’s something more pressing on your mind. Some ‘thing’ that appears in an audible rush of wings that you pretend not to hear or notice right away.

Castiel. Sweet, snarky, bitchy, protective, patient, calm, overdramatic…he has inherited many conflicting traits among humans. Sometimes to great and terrible degrees. But there is always an underlying humanity to him, a sense of love and righteousness and justice that you–

“Am I disturbing you?” Castiel asks and you stiffen and swallow a lump building in your throat.

“N-no, not at all.” You smile at him. “Stay?”

He smiles slightly back and you shake a little in your efforts to suppress your feelings. Thankfully Castiel is utterly oblivious. You don’t know what you’d do if he wasn’t. If he knew…

He says your name again and you don’t startle too obviously; you’re well-practiced at zoning in and out of reality by now. Too much daydreaming has always been your problem. If only you’d known what had been waiting in the clouds, you wouldn’t have minded it so much before. “Sorry, Cas; what was that?”

“Are you feeling all right?” he asks and you nod. A small yawn escapes.

“I’m a little sleepy, but fine.” You steel yourself, pressing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “Now, what did you just say?”

“You come up here often,” Castiel says and turns his blindingly beautiful eyes back to the sky. “I was wondering why.”

“Hm.” You know Jimmy Novak had beautiful eyes too, but you know the difference when you look at Castiel. Eyes truly are the windows to the soul– or grace– of the inhabitant, and everything you see of Castiel, you lo–

You inhale sharply as it hits you, like a gust of cold air that chills you to the bone, and you force yourself to look up at the sky instead of at him, even though he is all you can think of right now.

You love Castiel.

You are _in love with_ an angel.

“It– it’s…I don’t know,” you say, stumbling over words in effort to keep Castiel from noticing that you just got nailed in the head with the clue-stick. “It’s…quiet. It helps me think; process things.” You almost laugh because it’s more than true now and it’s making you a little sick.

“I see. I agree,” he says, still looking up. “I like it, myself, for much the same reason. And the stars are quite beautiful as well, aren’t they?”

“Everything is beautiful,” you say, your eyes glazing over a bit as you stare at him. You’re in love with Castiel. And this realization is a problem– you know yourself too well to think you’ll be able to keep it a secret from him. From anyone. Dean and Sam, and even Gabriel, tease you about Castiel almost all the time. It won’t be long before they realize how heartsick you truly are and you can’t imagine him finding out from any of them.

You have to tell him.

But you sit, silent and slowly getting colder and more tired with the encroaching night, until Castiel is suddenly in front of you with concern all over his face and you have to remind yourself that you haven’t told him yet so kissing him is strictly out of bounds even if it is oh, oh so tempting…

“We should go inside. You’ll get sick out here,” he says and pulls you up.

You open your mouth as if to say something, but then you’re back inside the warm bunker and all you can manage is, “Th-thanks Cas.”

He smiles at you and your heart quickens. “Good night, and sleep securely,” he says and wanders off towards the library.

As you dress and slink into bed you can’t manage to sleep at all. Your mind is racing with this new revelation and determination. The life of a hunter is often short. You need to tell Castiel how you feel. Even if he rejects you, you’re fairly certain it will be with no hard feelings. The thought doesn’t soothe you as much as you hope it would, and you’re no calmer about the confession you feel must happen.

 _No pressure. I’ll never do it if I think of it every second_ , you think, trying to pull out logical thinking. _One month. Thirty-one days. By the end of October I **will** tell him how I feel. One way or another._


	2. Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You invite Cas to have some fun and Gabriel ups the ante.

 

 

_Why why **why** did I think this was a good idea?!_

The morning is surprisingly filled with regret, considering how painfully sober you are. You’re also painfully antsy and restless to boot– both of which are, technically, Castiel’s fault. Dean’s shoulder had gotten messed up on the last hunt. But when Dean had called Cas to heal him, the angel had taken one look at the group of you, (apparently looking quite ragged after three weeks of nonstop hunting), and told Dean to rest it, that he would heal it in a week. Dean had balked, Sam had thanked Cas and stumbled into bed, and you had stood there, blinking in surprise as Dean and Cas had argued over what really counted for ‘Dean’s own good’ before you had shuffled off to bed, conflicted.

That was three days ago. Since then Cas has popped in at least every morning, if not more than once a day, to make sure Dean isn’t in any pain. He and Dean bicker like only the best of friends can and normally it’s fun to watch. Cas being petulant and stubborn with you is annoying. Cas being petulant and stubborn with anyone else is hilarious and adorable. Today, though, the thought of interacting with Cas first thing in the morning has sent you into a panic, so you bugged off for a walk and now here you are, stomping through the woods without anything really to do, kicking your way through piles of leaves.

Well…there’s an idea. You stop and look around. Your lips quirk into a smile and you start shuffling leaves into a slowly growing pile. You scrape them with your boots to make sure there are no bugs or spiders living in or under them, because that’s a mistake you never need to make. During the process you find a branch with enough sticks left on it that it makes a fairly decent rake/broom, and before long you have a very respectable, grown-up sized pile.

You're about to leap into the fruit of your labor when a familiar, level voice says, “What are you doing?” You turn and the look on Castiel’s face is…

You’ve always done your best not to laugh at any of Castiel’s questions about humanity because it can be overwhelming, even to other humans, and you never want to scare him away from asking entirely. But now, the way he’s looking at a harmless pile of leaves– he’s so confused that he’s _angry_ , like he’d just as soon smite the foliage as look at it, and you can’t help but double over. That annoyance turns to you, but because you know he’d never hurt you, you grin at him. “Hey, Cas. You like my leaf pile?”

He tilts his head down and looks up at you like that’s seriously the dumbest question ever, but you know him well enough that you know he’s burning with curiosity. He always wants to understand. That’s one of those things that you lo–…yes, that you _love_ about him.

“I thought Dean was aggravating.” Cas looks at you with faint disapproval. It’s…hotter than it should be. “At least when I bar him from hunting he only sulks around the bunker and shoots at unmoving targets; he doesn’t decide to clean up a forest. Is it that impossible for you to _rest_?”

You laugh. “I am resting!” His gaze hardens. “Seriously, I’m not cleaning. I’m making a leaf pile.”

He still doesn’t get it, but some of the hostility fades when he squints at you. “Why?” he asks slowly, almost like he’s afraid to know this one.

“Because…” You look at the pile and then back to Cas. “Watch,” you say, and make a running leap. They’re packed in enough that you sink just the right amount. Cas is still staring in confusion so you get out, re-fluff the pile, and do it again. You do it two more times, huffing and smiling with the kind of joy that can only come from acting like a child.

“I…” Cas frowns. “I still don’t understand.”

“It’s fun!” you say. Cas looks…unconvinced. “It’s something kids do, so it’s childish, I guess, but it’s still fun as an adult too.”

“Ah.”

“Try it,” you say without thinking. At the pinch of his brow you almost take it back, but when you do think about it, it actually doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

“No- no thank you,” he says.

“Aw, come on. Just once?” you plead and something in his eyes relents. “Here, just follow my lead.” You take off in a faster run and jump just a little harder. You land deeper and laugh– until another mass lands dangerously close and you shriek.

“Did I do it wrong?” Cas looks at you for guidance. In this pile you’re semi-protected from the outside world so your heart doesn’t really slow down so much, especially when you realize his leg is touching yours and _fuck, how desperate can one person be?_ you scold yourself. Here, though, in this quiet space, so close, this would be perfect. If you could only say…

“No, Cas, you did- it looks like you did it perfect.” You clear your throat. “You just…surprised me; I was gonna get out before you jumped in.”

“Oh. I apologize.”

“It’s okay, Cas.” The silence is awkward from the get-go and no, not now; the moment is over. Later. Maybe tomorrow. You have an entire month to buck up; so there’s no need to do it here and now and fuck this is getting even more awkward somebody really needs to say something. “So, uh, what’s- what’s the verdict?”

“Hm?” Cas asks. He turns his eyes lazily towards you and you try to hide your own eyes from those piercing bright blues.

“Jumping in leaves. What do you think?”

“Oh.” He concentrates, like this is a serious matter to be considered. “I can see why you enjoy it but I’m afraid it did not do much for me.”

“That’s okay,” you say and stand up. You offer him a hand to help him out, which he takes, and you feel emboldened by the fact that his mere touch doesn’t turn you into jelly. “But hey,” you say and lightly hit his shoulder. “At least you tried it.”

He smiles. Fuck. So much for not turning to jelly. “Thank you for inviting me to try it.”

“No problem. That’s what I’m here for.” You look down. “All the dumb human stuff Sam and Dean probably won’t do with you.”

“If it makes you smile, it is not dumb. It is worthwhile,” he says. You chuckle and smile at him, trying to be normal because that’s a general ‘you’ not _you_ you, though you are included, and ugh, you really don’t want to be in your own head today, seriously, why are you like this you’re not twelve anymore.

“I need to be going. Have fun,” he says and turns. You allow yourself one moment of pure longing before he is gone in a flutter of wings. Alone in the woods, you sigh.

Something big crashes into your pile of leaves and you put your hand on your knife.

“You know, if you looked at him like that when he could actually see you, even my oblivious, emotionally stunted baby brother might catch a clue.”

You roll your eyes and turn to see Gabriel lounging in your leaf pile like it’s the world’s biggest and comfiest beanbag chair. Despite his words, you smile at your friend. “Gabriel.”

He says your name, just as mock-serious before he grins and hops out in a way that defies physics. Because Gabriel. “So…” he says, circling you like a predator. “When are you going to tell Castiel that stern lectures and squinting make you all weak in the knees? Do you need some _help_?”

“No,” you say immediately, knowing exactly what Gabriel means by that and your ‘do not want’ meter is at its max. “No, I don’t need help. I’m going to tell him.”

“When?” Gabriel asks, obviously disbelieving.

“This month,” you say resolutely. He stops in front of you and offers you a wrapped candy of some sort, but you wave it off and he shrugs and pops it in his mouth. “I gave myself a month. I have to tell him by November 1st.”

“I see.” He looks unimpressed. “And what happens if you don’t?”

“Uh…” You haven’t thought of that. You just figure failure isn’t an option. “But I will.”

He rolls his eyes and– “Don’t look at me like that,” you say, offended and unnerved by the dramatics going on with his face.

“Honestly sweetheart, you’ve been smitten for _years_ and haven’t confessed yet. Just because you gave yourself a timeline now doesn’t mean jack if you don’t have incentive,” he says.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you grumble, a little hurt.

Gabriel waves his hand and he smirks. “Luckily, I am the _king_ of incentive.”

You really, really don’t like where this is going. “Gabriel–”

“Yup, motivation, that’s exactly what you need!” Gabriel throws his arm around you and tugs you in close. “So…if you haven’t confessed by midnight on the first of next month, I will trap you and Castiel in a pocket dimension and keep you there until you do confess.”

You gape. “Gabr-!”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a little uninventive but I’ve got a month to work out the details.” His eyes are shining with delight as he pulls away. “Maybe I’ll get a movie screen and replay all those doe-eyed stares you’ve sent him over the years.”

You groan. “Gabe!”

“I can even pull in the Winchesters for testimonials about how love-sick you’ve been.”

“Gabriel!”

“It’s okay, it’s no trouble at all. What are friends for!” he says and pats your cheek. “Remember– one month!”

You open your mouth, not sure what you’re going to say but certain it’s going to involve a string of swear words and choice insults, when you are suddenly alone yet again. Whirling around you see no trace of that _delightful_ archangel whom you absolutely don’t want to pluck like a holiday hen, no siree. Alone (really, actually this time), you groan to the ever-unhelpful heavens.

One month. No problem. _Right_.


	3. Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas comes to dinner and you start to have second thoughts.

You sink into your seat at the table and let your head rest on the surface.

Dean chuckles and pats your back. “Come on kid; it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

You lift your head to glower at him and he smiles brilliantly back at you. Of course. Because he has suddenly found an upside to having a fucked-up shoulder– namely, not being dragged out of bed by Sam at _seven a.m._ after getting no sleep the night before. Getting up at seven. To organize the library. With two people. So yeah– whooptie-fucking-do. Dean had acted like a drill sergeant on the sidelines and Sam had gotten his shit sorted just so, while you had dragged your sorry carcass and carried every single book the bunker had.

“I have never earned a dinner so hard in my life,” you mumble and sit up when Dean and Sam put out the plates filled with food. It smells so good and you think that maybe you can forgive Dean. Just a little.

“Even more than the time you ganked that shifter couple?” Dean asks and dives in.

As he stuffs his face you smirk and put a modest bite onto your fork. “Yes, Dean, even more than that time I saved your ass.”

He practically chokes in his rush to correct you. “I had it handled!” he says, but when Sam snorts Dean diverts his glare to his brother.

You smile at the memory. It’s not often Dean or Sam owe you one. “Yeah, you looked real threatening, all hogtied.”

Dean shudders and mumbles, “Creepy kinky bastards,” before getting back to shoveling his meal into his mouth like he’ll never eat again.

“Oh my, that sounds like my ideal,” Gabriel says, appearing in a chair next to you. It probably says something about your life that an archangel suddenly showing up in the middle of dinner doesn’t even cause a hiccup.

Dean glares at Gabriel, but without any real heat. “If you want dinner you’ll stop there.”

“Oo, don’t mind if I do!” Gabriel says and a plate identical to yours appears in front of him. “Oh by the way, I invited Castiel. I hope you don’t mind.”

You stop mid-chew and fantasize about which would hurt Gabriel more: getting kneed real hard between the legs, or having a handful of feathers ripped out. “Mind? Not at all,” Dean says so cheerfully that you look to see him and Sam sharing conspiring smiles and that knee-jerk anger turns to a betrayal that stings. You look right at Gabriel. “You- you _told_ th-”

“Hey, relax,” Sam says gently. Something about his tone helps you blink back tears and his smile is kind, not mocking. “It’s pretty obvious how much you like Cas– kinda has been for a long time. Gabriel just told us about how you’re planning to _do_ something about it.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ _finally_ ,” Dean says. “I swear, sometimes when you give him those _looks_ I just wanna–” He mimes shoving two heads together and holding them there. “And then–” He mimes…this one is harder to tell. Picking something up and putting it down? No, slamming it down. And then again and–

“Oh, _oh_ ; Dean!” you exclaim, flustered as all hell, at the same time Sam shouts, “Dean, _gross_!” and Gabriel bursts out laughing.

The room settles and you just shake your head and try not to think about _that_. At all. But freaking Dean. “My _point_ ,” he says, like he had been completely in the right, “–Is that it’s obvious.”

You huff and go back to your food but ‘obvious’ hangs in your head. Obvious enough to catch Sam and Dean’s attention. Obvious enough even to frustrate them, apparently. What if Castiel already knows? What if he’s trying to be polite? What if he doesn’t know how to let you down easy?

“That’s not it,” Gabriel says. You startle and wait a moment, sure that he’s responding to something Sam or Dean said. But they’re silent and look confused and you realize, no, he’s responding to you.

You glare at the angel because, seriously, he’s your friend but there are lines and how many times do you have to _have_ this conversation? “Damn it, Gabriel, I told you–”

“Sorry, sorry; it won’t happen again,” Gabriel says, holding up his hands in defense and sounding…well, sincere. He puts his hands back down. “But I’m serious. He doesn’t know. That much I can tell. Humans aren’t the only ones that project.” You have a hard time imagining Cas ‘projecting’ anything, especially accidentally, but maybe angels read each other on different wavelengths.

There’s a rush of air right next to you and a deep, slightly concerned: “I apologize; I was caught up in something. Am I too late?”

“Not at all Cas; have a seat,” Sam says and Cas does. Right on your other side. Which– okay, it makes sense with him standing there to begin with, but the fact that he came in right next to you is… _suspicious_. However you certainly can’t accuse Gabriel of anything now, so you let it slide and when Cas greets you, you smile and do exactly the same. Nice, normal; very cool and composed, if you say so yourself.

“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot–” Gabriel snaps and your drinks are replaced with glasses of wine. “It’s rude to come to dinner without bringing anything. And this has the added bonus of being something even taste-challenged seraphs can enjoy.”

“I do like wine,” Cas says and takes his glass.

“You do?” you ask and suddenly you’re wondering how much you know about wine.

“Seriously?” Dean asks, affronted. “Burgers confuse you but _wine_ you can taste?”

“I have drunk more wine over the ages than consumed burgers,” Cas says and takes a sip.

You bite your lip. That’s right; Cas has lived longer than…well, longer than humans have even been around. Even as an angel you can’t help but think he’s seen more, done more…he certainly knows more, if the way he’s talking with Sam is any indication. You try to tune in but it’s over your head.

_What if you’re just not good enough?_ slides into your head, unbidden, and startlingly, terrifyingly new. You don’t know why you haven’t considered that before. Most of your fears have been about Cas just not liking you like that and being unable to deal with your stupid infatuation. But now you have to realize just how unsuitable you might be. Gabriel is telling a story that is making Sam and Dean laugh with abandon and Cas– even Cas is smiling, teeth and gums flashing and his eyes crinkling so joyfully. You can’t make anyone laugh like that. The conversation moves along and Dean and Cas share a smile over something– something you’ll never know, because their bond is deeper than anything you can understand.

Your breathing picks up. You can’t cook, you’re only a passable hunter, you’re not smart, or funny, and you didn’t know Cas liked wine and how can you love someone if you don’t even know what they like?

What can _you_ give an _angel_ that they don’t already have?

You eat without tasting, and listen without hearing. You barely finish your meal before Sam is trying to grab your attention. He calls your name a couple of times, and you stand abruptly. All eyes are on you but you’ve gotten good at putting your walls up. You’re practically a Winchester, in that way.

“It’s my turn for dishes since Sam did them last time,” you say and carry your dish away, back towards the kitchen. “Leave your plates there. I’ll clean them up.”

Once you’re safely away in the kitchen you start cleaning. The plate, the utensils, and anything else you can get your hands on. You dread going back out there so you decide to stay right here, at the sink, until you can get your head straight just enough to–

A hand settles on your shoulder but Cas says your name before you can panic. The sharp inhale you took comes out heavy and you try to smile at your– at the angel. He still looks concerned though and asks, “What’s wrong?”

‘Nothing’ is a phrase that you hate to hear anyone else say. So you go for the next best thing. “I’m just…not having a good day,” you say. Partial truth is better than no truth, right? “Sorry, Cas.”

He nods solemnly and you expect him to leave you alone. Cas is more considerate than people give him credit for. You don’t expect, however, for him to _hug_ you. The act makes you freeze and if he didn’t seem almost as uncomfortable as you, you might be screaming ‘imposter!’ and diving for the silver.

“Am I doing it wrong?” he asks and you huff a laugh.

“No, Cas. You’re perfect,” you murmur and hope the secondary meaning is lost in the folds of his jacket and the scent that is impossible for you to name, but which buzzes through your body impossibly strong. When you pull away it is with some reluctance, but then you see him again, and that’s almost as good as holding him.

“I’m not, but…” He ducks his head. “I am glad if I can make you feel better, even a little bit, after all you have done for me.”

“Um…I haven’t, though…” you mumble and it’s your turn to look away.

“You have.” He moves into your line of sight and just like that, you’re trapped by crystal blue and a hint of grace. “Your friendship over the years…your love an acceptance and forgiveness have been everything to me. You, Dean, Sam, and Gabriel…you all mean so much to me. I’m sorry if I ignored you out there. You mean just as much to me and I was looking forward to spending time with you tonight.”

You don’t know what to say. How to unpack that. So you smile and say, “Just how strong is that wine?”

He rolls his eyes. “I have got to get you away from Sam and Dean before it is too late,” he mutters and you laugh. His eyes glint with mischief and he holds up two nearly full wine glasses. “While they argue amongst themselves, I thought we could at least enjoy these in peace.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say and you both clink them together. You don’t think you’re the smartest, most attractive, best hunter in the world. But Cas must get something from you or he wouldn’t have sought you out. So there’s something there and it’s enough to hang your hopes on. You will do your best to give him anything he wants. Anything you possibly can.

And maybe that will be enough.


	4. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find Cas sleeping and think about what could be.

 

You wander down the hall, softly singing to yourself. You slept in pretty late today and woke up surprisingly refreshed and well-rested. You’ve done some reading, studied some Enochian, laughed at Dean, and now you think you’re going to get some time in at the shooting range when you pass a door that is cracked open. It’s just a bedroom but it isn’t Sam’s, or Dean’s, or yours, and this is unusual enough to make you (cautiously) peer in. Someone is lying on the bed.

Not just ‘someone,’ but _Castiel_. And he’s unconscious.

You push open the door and check for any sign of a threat. The room is clear from what you can tell and you hover over Cas, looking for injuries and finding none. He’s–

Your name is hissed from the doorway and you spin to see Dean, looking entirely like himself and still with his arm in a sling. There’s no reason for a shifter or other monster to be in here, one of the safest places in the entire world, but there’s no such thing as ‘too safe’ in your line of work and you haven’t survived this long by being unprepared. As you pass by Dean on your way out you brush him with a silver ring you wear. There’s no reaction, so you breathe easier as he shuts the door. Dean shakes his head and you know your precaution didn’t go unnoticed. “Relax; he’s just sleeping.”

“Angels don’t sleep,” you say, and start to fidget. What is Dean hiding from you?

He doesn’t look worried at all though, and Cas is his best friend, so you hope that he’s telling the truth. He levels a ‘look’ at you. “Gabriel sleeps.”

You roll your eyes, because comparing Cas and Gabe is about as useful as comparing a hawk and a puffin. “Gabriel is a freak of nature.”

Dean laughs. “I can’t argue with that,” he says but turns serious as he makes eye contact with you. “Sleeping is something he picked up from the first time he was human. He doesn’t do it often but he still finds it relaxing. I think it helps him juice up.”

You know what he means, but crinkle your nose at the phrasing. “Seriously, Dean?”

He grins at your disgust. “What? I bet you like thinking about his j–”

“Finish that sentence and I will make sure your shoulder _never_ works again.”

“Touchy!” Dean says and mocks terror before falling back into that infuriatingly easy, cocky smile. “Come on killer; Sam’s in the gym and I got a move for you in case a vampire ever grabs your neck again…”

 

Later, you’re walking back down the hall; a little worse for wear, sweaty, but ultimately pleased that you managed to knock Sam over. You’re clutching a blanket in your hands because it gets drafty in the bunker and you could kind of use it but it won’t hurt to stop off and see if Cas needs it more. He’s probably not even still there so really this is just a courtesy stop. Honest.

You silently open his door, just in case, but the sight of him makes you stop for an entirely different reason than earlier that day. He’s sleeping– not still, but again, because it’s obvious he woke up at some point as he’s now…comfortable, for lack of a better word. Only a low desk light is on and his jackets and shoes have been discarded. His shirt is partly unbuttoned and that peculiar head tilt he does– it’s apparently enough of a habit that he even does it in his sleep. His head is curled down a bit under his hand, exposing his neck, and shadows play off that long line of skin.

You swallow hard and realize that you’ve been staring. You quickly glance left and right, making sure the hall is empty, because if Dean sees this you will never _ever_ live it down. Once the coast is clear, you step into the room and unfold the blanket, because he’s still lying atop a perfectly made bed. You intend to put the cover over him and leave, but as you get closer you can’t help but admire how relaxed he is. Dean may have seen him sleep before, but you haven’t, and you love the way Cas looks without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He’s lying on his side, facing the door and curled ever so slightly. You gently drape the blanket over him, just up to his shoulder, leaving his neck uncovered. You bite down on your bottom lip and wonder what it would be like to brush your lips over that exposed stretch of skin. He just looks so _cozy_. You want to kiss him. You want to lie down behind him, breathe him in, wrap your arm around his stomach and pull him so close that you meld together.

Your heart is beating hard and loud in your head and you step away from the bed, away from these throbbing aches of pure desire that entice you to do something stupid. Resisting the pull becomes easier when you think, _I’m perving on an unconscious angel. Who came here to sleep because this is where he feels safe._

Not that you would ever do anything to hurt Cas, but now the thought of him waking up and asking what you’re doing is suddenly an impossible thing to have to face. You force yourself to take slow, steady steps out of the room, and you shut the door behind you. Once you’re in the hall, you all but run to the showers. If Dean or Sam have used all the hot water, this time you won't complain.


	5. Harvest Moon/Hunter's Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Cas, and a beautiful full moon.

  
 

You’ve been sitting outside for an hour now to calm down from the day and yet you’re still vacillating between easy calm and the familiar flush of embarrassment.

When Cas had stumbled into the kitchen that morning, a little sleep-heavy and looking very well-rested, you had been happy for him. You had even forgiven yourself for the previous night’s toe-dip into voyeurism. It wouldn’t happen again, nobody knew– no harm, no foul, you had reasoned, and had then prepared a cup of strong coffee to give to Cas. Some of the _really_ good stuff you and Sam keep having to pester Dean into keeping around for interminably long days and nights. You know caffeine doesn’t do much for Cas, but when it comes to food and drinks, the stronger the flavor, the higher the chance Cas seems to be able to enjoy whatever is set in front of him. Indeed, when you had handed him a fresh, steaming mug, he had taken it with a smile.

And then he had rolled his head around and leaned back, fully displaying the coffee’s journey as it was swallowed down his throat, working muscles and Adam’s apple and– all those feelings from the night before had crashed into and over you like a tidal wave and you had had to turn away. And because your luck was so ‘awesome,’ Dean (because it always fucking had to be Dean) had noticed.

Hence, the day you are now trying to decompress from. Thankfully Cas had taken off, leaving you to be the only one to notice and fend off Dean’s teasing. Which was not a great situation, but at least Cas wouldn’t find out about your feelings just because Dean always had to be gross and childish. Of all the ways to let the angel know how you feel, you’d rank that near the very bottom. Maybe just above you confessing as you died. _Maybe_.

So. You’ve survived Dean’s teasing and now you’re back in your favorite nighttime spot under a bright, full moon. The harvest moon, actually, and it’s tinged a beautiful yellow. It’s nice to be able to enjoy how gorgeous it is without having to consider how it’s going to affect whatever hunt you’re working.

Thinking of beautiful celestial bodies and supernatural creatures seems to be the perfect reason and time for Castiel to appear. You straighten up to throw a nod in his direction and he sits next to you. Fully dressed, thank God.

“Enjoying the night again?” Cas asks.

“Mm hm. It’s a harvest moon and I don’t have to think about witches or werewolves or anything else. Just that it’s pretty,” you say. ‘ _Like you_ ,’ you think but don’t say. That’s too cheesy.

“It’s also a Hunter’s Moon,” Cas says with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and a half smile to match.

“Is it still appropriate even if we’re taking the night off?” you ask.

“You’re always hunters. As Dean has been reminding me incessantly over the past several days.” Cas rolls his eyes back into looking at the moon and you turn your attention to it as well. But you peek at him on more than one occasion. “I wanted to speak to you about that, actually. Sam has found a hunt for you all to leave on tomorrow morning. It’s a day sooner than I had intended to heal Dean, but it seems like a fairly quick case. I wanted to know if you’d be all right with that.”

You give it a courtesy thought but ultimately nod your agreement. “I really liked the vacation,” you say. “So thanks for that, but I guess I am getting a bit restless. And Dean is climbing the walls so much that one day I’m going to punch him right in the face and I’d feel bad if I did it while his shoulder was still a mess. It just doesn’t seem fair, you know?”

“I think I understand the sentiment, if not the logistics.” Cas shakes his head but his smile is fond and suddenly you ache to tell him _everything_. The thought makes you seize up and you pretend to be staring at the moon, like he is, while you also try to organize the word vomit cluttering up your head.

Nothing is going to happen like this, you realize, so you take some deep breaths and try not to stress about it. You’re barely into the month. A revelation like this requires baby steps. So, you tentatively put your (figurative) foot on the ground. “Hey Cas?”

“Hm?” he asks and looks at you. You keep your head up. Against all odds, you avoid looking at him.

“I know it probably takes a lot of your time checking in on Dean, but it’s been nice having you around. I like that you’ve been around more,” you say.

“It’s been nice for me as well,” Cas says. You can tell he looks up again, at the perfect, bright moon. “I think I’m starting to enjoy the coffee you make me. I’m starting to taste it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Gabriel did mention techniques for tasting like a human, and one of them is repetition,” Cas says.

You bite your bottom lip. Does he realize he’s handing you a chance for a perfect invitation? Does he know? Does he want to be around like you want him around? Oh hell; does it even matter? “You should keep coming around then,” you say quickly, before you can chicken out or get lost in your own head. “Repetition, right? Also, Sam bought that nice coffee press; we should really get his money’s worth out of it.”

“I suppose so,” he says, faintly amused. You smile, because you don’t think that’s just his answer for the last part. You think that’s his answer for the whole awkward bit. And the more Cas comes around, the better off you’ll be. You know that will always be true– no matter what happens. You turn towards him, thinking maybe you can say that. Maybe even if you can’t commit to the ‘l’ word, you can at least hint at what he means to you

But he turns and opens his mouth first, saying your name in a low timbre that pulls your entire body to attention. You swallow hard. “Y-yeah, Cas?”

He studies you and for a second you worry about his probing gaze. But he drops his eyes and squints, like he’s trying to make sense of something. “You are aware I slept in the bunker last night, correct?”

“Uh…yeah. It’s why I made you coffee this morning,” you say, smiling a bit. “Dean told me you do that sometimes. I had no idea until I saw you last night.”

He nods. “I do find it occasionally a pleasurable way to restore my grace. I was wondering though…when I woke this morning, there was a blanket on top of me. Do you know why it was there?”

Oh shit why is he asking about the blanket? What do you say about the blanket? Do you admit to it? He doesn’t _seem_ to know who placed it on him– Dean was there when you first saw him but no one else knows you came back. Do you play it off? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Do you chalk it up to friendly concern? Do you really tell him why you–

“Hey Cas!”

You both react to the shout in similar but different ways. Cas stands in one smooth motion, his blade coming to his hand, while you scramble to your feet and pull at your gun. Both of you relax at the sight of a startled Dean ‘Terrible Timing’ Winchester. He looks between you and Cas and realizes he might have interrupted something. However he also gets very much the wrong idea and rapidly waves with his good arm. “Oh, shit! Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to–!”

“It is fine, Dean,” Cas says with a heavy sigh and his angel blade disappears. “I was just coming to heal you.”

“And I’m going to see Sam about the case,” you say and start to walk past him for the warmth of the bunker.

As you walk past Dean he whispers, “I’m sorry, kid.”

You don’t think you were about to tell Cas the truth, but you were having a pretty nice time out there alone with him, neuroses notwithstanding. So you punch Dean’s bad arm on principle and leave Cas to deal with the whining. Sorry not sorry.


	6. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Winchesters duck into a bar, and two familiar angels come to visit.

There’s still a downpour going on by the time you reach the bar, so the three of you trudge into the place looking like a pack of wet rats. It is mildly busy, a fact that doesn’t seem to deter Sam and Dean from shaking themselves out and somehow transforming into looking like damp male models. You grumble and try to squeeze yourself out as well, ditching the outer layers and taking off your hat as Dean goes for the drinks and Sam snags a booth. It’s nice and warm, there’s enough noise to cover up any unusual conversation you might have without being overwhelming, and you can already see Dean scoping out his prospects.

You sit down gratefully. A quick hunt doesn’t necessarily mean a fun or easy hunt and you shift your foot, trying to get the graveyard dirt that slipped in there into a more comfortable position and wondering if you can get away with dumping it out. Sam smiles at you and says, “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Aside from tumbling into a rain soaked grave? Yeah, peachy,” you grumble and give up. You won't be comfortable until you get into a shower.

A hand slams into your back and you shoot Dean a glare as he slides into the seat next to Sam across from you. He grins in return and sets out three beers. The three of you clink the bottles, a silent toast to a successful hunt, and Dean downs half of his in an especially long drink. “Nice to be back on the horse again!” he says and sighs.

“Maybe you can actually take a short rest without having to be injured into it next time,” you say and lean your head into your hand. There’s a lightning storm going on outside and the rain is more pleasant to look at now that you’re not swimming through it.

“Yeah. There’s not a lot you can do with only one arm,” Sam adds and you both chuckle at Past Dean’s frustration.

“Oh Sammy, there’s plenty you can do,” Dean says, a smirk carrying through in his voice, and Sam makes retching noises as you laugh. “Luckily I am inventive with my free time, but I’m glad to be back in working order,” Dean says. “Speaking of Cas…”

You turn your head away from the window to give him an incredulous look –because that is a stretch of a segue by any means– and it’s a good thing you do, because Cas is standing beside and slightly behind Dean, looking curiously at him. You sit up straight and say, “Hi Cas!” before Dean can say something that makes you strangle him.

Dean and Sam snap to as well and Cas nods at you. He says your name in greeting, which makes you smile. You love how your name rumbles in his voice. Cas’s eyes glance over the booth, looking for a seat. You swallow when you realize the only one open is next to you, just taken by a pile of wet clothes, but before you can say anything, Dean and Sam slide right out of their seats. “Good to see you Cas, but there’s a lady right over there just waiting for my number,” Dean says and pats him on the shoulder.

“I think I’ll get another beer,” Sam says. You beseech them with your eyes the best you can but Sam ignores you and Dean stands behind Cas and mouths ‘get ‘im, tiger!’ before going to the bar.

Cas glances at him but Dean is on his way. “Dean is…Dean?” Cas asks you and you chuckle weakly.

“More Dean than usual today,” you say. Cas stands there. And stands there. You clear your throat. “Uh, they’re gone, so you can…” You gesture at the bench across from you and he takes a seat.

“I didn’t want to impose if you wanted to be alone,” he said.

“You’re never imposing,” you say.

He smiles and lightning strikes close enough to cause a flash to illuminate his face. Other bar patrons murmur about the storm, but all you care to notice is the angel sitting in front of you, who doesn’t seem to mind the silence and extended eye contact. For a few minutes you feel at peace, imagining like it’s only the two of you. You wonder if this– this easy silence, this feeling of peace; maybe this is what a date would feel like. You’ve been friends for a while now, and weathered some truly awful, trying circumstances. Maybe first date jitters wouldn’t even be a thing. Maybe you two could continue on as you are, just…closer. More. Your eyes drift down to his lips. Yeah. You wouldn’t mind mor-

Suddenly you hear Gabriel laugh loudly from across the room and you snort at the sound. “You two come together?” you ask.

Cas’s look is long-suffering and you laugh, yourself, as Gabriel arrives at your table, smug, with an amused Sam and sulky Dean. You raise an eyebrow, because Dean doesn’t usually strike out this early. “What ha–”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dean grumps and sits next to Cas while Sam leans on the side of the booth next to you and Gabriel basically apparates a chair. The archangel looks between you and Cas and you…you don’t like that smile. Seriously. At this point you wonder if you’ll _ever_ be able to tell him anything ever again.

“I brought a little something,” Gabriel says and whips out a bottle. It looks like an apothecary’s tonic, dark brown and aged, and Dean leans in. “It’s toxic for humans, Dean-o, so step on back.”

Dean rolls his eyes but takes up his own drink. “So why are you flailing it around?”

“It’s angel alcohol,” Gabriel says brightly. “A little concoction of my own. I figure– your first hunt back went well, Cas and I get a little break from putting things back together upstairs– we should all get to celebrate! What do you say, li’l bro? Wanna be on the same level as your humans?”

Gabriel waggles his eyebrows right at you, abandoning all subtlety gained with his pluralization, and you glare death at him. Thankfully there’s no way Cas will–

“I don’t like being drunk, but I do like the sensation that comes before it,” Cas says and two glasses appear on the table, into which Gabriel gleefully pours the almost-stout-black liquid with grand gesturing. Once Cas and Gabe have their drinks, they, Sam, and Dean all raise their glasses.

You sigh, but raise yours as well. Thunder strikes ominously outside and all you can think is that you are going to regret everything before the night is through.


	7. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take an unpleasant trip down memory lane and remember when you first had feelings for your angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Show-level violence, twisting of canon to suit my purpose (referenced in fic: 09x09 “Holy Terror” (well, ‘referenced’, ‘stole dialogue from’, same diff)), drunk!touchy-feely!Cas, some angsting, some hurt-comfort, fluff.

 

One thing you don’t mind about this is that Drunk Cas is a happy drunk. He smiles and tries to laugh at Dean’s jokes. He does laugh at a couple of jokes Sam and Gabe make while Dean teases them for being nerds. You stay quiet, just enjoying the sight of your friends being so…normal. Happy. You try not to dwell on how this can only end in tears and tragedy, especially with the way Gabriel is smirking and very, very slowly nursing his own drink, but why not enjoy the good times while they last?

Cas suddenly leans against you– and stays. You’re not sure what your face is getting up to, but Dean, Sam, and Gabe all smirk like they can see inside your head. You try to think of something smart and sharp to say, to make them stop, but Cas _nuzzles your shoulder_ and your brain short-circuits.

Gabe hides his head in his arms and shakes with laughter and Dean chokes on his beer. Sam takes a large swig and pats Dean roughly on the back, hiding his own laughter. It doesn’t matter because none of this registers to Cas at _all_ ; he just stays so very, very distractingly close to you and rests his head on your shoulder and can you just die now, feeling like this? If you get to Heaven, it’s going to turn out to be this moment. Forever.

“Why are you so quiet?” Cas grumbles, his voice right there, bouncing in your ear, echoing in your head, reverberating through your body. “I like it when you talk.”

“You–…you do?” you ask, shaking slightly. If you turn right now your lips and his lips will be just a centimeter apart and–

“Mmm.” He licks his lips and oh _fuck_ you can hear every slight motion and this– this is not helping. He picks up your beer bottle and swishes it. “Is it because you are thirsty? Your drink is gone.”

“You’re right. I am thirsty. I’ll be right back!” you say, gently move Cas so he’s leaning against the table, and run away before anyone can stop you. You sit at the bar for a moment, waiting for the bartender and trying to squeeze out this extra nervous energy. You’re tapping your fingers and your foot and trying to breathe.

“You practically had him in your pocket. Why’d you run away?” Sam asked and leaned next to you.

“It– just–” You breathe deep. “He’s drunk. He– he probably won’t even remember this when he sobers up.”

“You sound like you’re making excuses,” Sam says. You ignore him to order a new round of beers for the humans.

“Well…maybe I just need to get drunk too,” you say. You’re already on the way. What can it hurt?

“That’s the spirit,” Sam says, knocking you with his elbow as he carries his and Dean’s beers to the table. From this angle Dean and Gabe’s backs are to you and you can see a smile creasing through Cas’s face. You sigh and take a swig, hoping that a few more beers will make you respond to Cas’s affection with something other than abject terror.

However that pleasantly happy buzz stops building when Dean adds to whatever conversation they were having: “April? Wasn’t that the reaper you banged?”

“Yeah, and that you stabbed,” Cas says. He’s smiling. _Smiling_.

You blink, because there is a way to remember Cas’s encounter with April and this is _not it_. But Dean says, “Yeah,” and after a pause, adds, “She was hot.”

You remember her well. She had snarled just before repeatedly bashing your face in.

“So hot,” Castiel says. “And very nice. Well, up until she started torturing me.”

You grip your beer with both hands, almost threatening to break the bottle. Cas is still relaxed. Pleasantly so, not like when you barged into that bitch’s apartment and saw him in the chair, already de–

“Guys,” Sam says urgently, cutting off whatever stupid thing Dean is trying to get out. Dean and Gabe turn to you and Cas looks at you, so innocent, and you can’t get mad at him for reframing that awful, _awful_ time in a way that makes it easier for him to deal with, can you?

You don’t know if you can, but you do.

“Shit,” Dean says and Cas sobers a bit at your expression. He says your name, like he did when he had woken up to see you crying over him in that chair and suddenly you just…can’t.

After what she did to him, that bitch is still a _fond memory_?

Sam murmurs your name but everything wonderful has become everything awful and you turn and leave. You walk outside, onto the patio. The storm has dispersed and the rain is falling much more calmly now, but it’s still cold and everything is soaked and so you find yourself alone, replaying one of the absolute worst days of your life.

 

_“Get away from him!” you shouted and used the hilt of your angel blade to knock against her head. She fell aside, stunned by the surprise attack and you fell to your knees in front of Cas. “Cas…Cas! Castiel!” you begged, grabbing his shoulders but he was so still and the motions just caused more blood to drain from the wound in his chest. From the carvings etched into still-warm skin._

_“It’s too late!” April snarled and grabbed you by the shirt. She threw you back and proceeded to beat the shit out of you. You barely tried to fight back. Every tooth knocked out, every punch that made you spit blood…it was just something you deserved. You had one job_ – _find Cas. While Gabriel restored Heaven and cleared Cas’s name, and Sam and Dean went looking for Cas’s grace, you were supposed to find the runaway angel before his enraged family did. And you failed. You failed so much that he had been tortured for who knew how long. The blood was caked around deep wounds and the hole in his chest was so deep that all the blood was probably under him by now. You couldn’t do anything when the reaper raised her sword over you. You just looked at Cas._

_A boot passed by your field of vision and your eyes snapped back to see Dean, running her through with your angel blade that had been lost in the ruckus. You scrambled up and pulled and slid your battered body over to Cas, away from Sam’s well-meaning but annoying attempt to help you, and you prayed to Gabriel in desperate screams._

 

Your name is murmured close by and you flinch as your (dry) jacket is placed over your shoulders. A glance shows you Cas, standing next to you and looking much more sober. And concerned. You thump your head on a railing and sigh. Cas was happy. Now he’s not. Go you. But Cas is, also, not taking your crap– he pulls you up and turns you, placing the railing at your back and making you face him. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You bite your tongue for a second. Then you open your mouth but he leans in close, so _close_ , and says, “Do not tell me ‘nothing’.”

You glare at him. How dare he get mad at _you_. You try to be sympathetic –it was more traumatic for him than for you– but, fuck it, it was still plenty traumatic for you too. “I hate her,” you hiss. “I know she’s dead and gone and I hope she’s rotting in hell or whatever passes for hell for a reaper. But I still _hate_ her.”

Cas blinks. “April?” he asks, like he hadn’t just been getting starry-eyed about whatever romp they’d had. “I’m not overly fond of her myself. Seeing as she _killed_ me.”

He’s trying to make a joke but it just makes you angrier and you spin back around to face the cold, rainy night. “Really? Thought she was _nice_. And don’t forget pretty.”

Cas is silent and leans next to you. For a few moments it’s just the pattering of rain on the pergola and patio. He clears his throat awkwardly. “It…wasn’t really the memory of April herself that I was fondly remembering,” he says softly. “That time was a very dark period for me. I was alone, I felt awful for what I had helped Metatron do…that I could do nothing to fix it. My brothers and sisters hated me, I was cold and hungry and so entrenched in _feelings_ that I…”

You glance and see him focused on his hands. “She invited me in, gave me food and warmth and an experience I had desired for some time, and I…it was comfort when I needed it the most.”

“Why did you run from us?” you ask. “We would have taken care of you Cas, you _know_ that.”

“I knew that you would help me at the expense of your own safety, your own lives.” He looks right at you, steady and firm. “That was why I _had_ to run. My brothers and sisters were incensed. They would have tortured and killed you.”

“We’re hunters, Cas. Torture and death are some side-effects of the gig,” you say.

He stands to face you and says, “Not because of me. It will not ever be because of me.”

Your eyes drift down to his chest. Covered by a shirt, and a tie, but you know exactly where that wound was. You’ll never forget it. Without thinking, you reach to touch it, but Cas takes your hand in his. He holds it. “It has been healed,” he says gently.

“I can still see it,” you whisper. You start to pull your hand back but he uses it to pull you into him– and he keeps you there with a hug. “Cas?” you ask but you don’t feel inclined to pull away. He smells earthy, and sweet like whatever Gabe had brought them to drink. “You…you’ve gotten pretty good at hugs.”

“I’ve enjoyed the practice,” he says. One hand is on your back and the other is holding your head. If you weren’t still riding out bad memories, this might be your new Heaven. “If I hold you like this, then you can’t see it.”

You stifle a laugh. “You can’t hold me here forever, Cas.”

“I can do it until the memory fades. And if it comes back to you again, then I can hold you like this again.”

You don’t say anything, but you think of Gabriel kneeling next to Cas, healing him with a bright light tinted gold. You remember the bloodied carvings in his chest fading away and blue eyes opening in dazed confusion; the feeling of unchecked relief after you realized you didn’t want to live in a world without this one, particular angel.


	8. Footprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas doubts himself. You remind him he shouldn’t always.

You’re walking to a likely-haunted cabin and you tune Dean out when he starts to bitch, yet again, about “fucking forests.” It was amusing the first few times, especially when you made a few pointed comments to egg him on in one direction or another, but there’s only so much car co-dependency you can handle in a day and Dean is quickly breaching it, if he hasn’t already. Sam’s enjoying himself but even he is irritating you with how loud the music from his phone is playing, even with headphones. The scenery is full of dead leaves and trees and while you do enjoy nature walks, you’re having a hard time making it pleasant with Mr. Surly, bad echoes of Iron & Wine, and a ghost with an intimidating body count waiting at the end of it.

Cas is also with you and he’s the only one not on your last nerve. He had promised Dean not to interfere with the hunt, because God forbid Dean ever do anything the easy way, but he is along for the possibility of major and minor injuries. You appreciate the show of concern and the fact that he’s sticking with you all so much more lately. You dread to think that Gabriel hinted Cas should hang around more, but you’re not going to question it.

In fact, you lower your head just enough to keep Cas’s legs and feet in view and, with Sam and Dean farther up ahead, you tune them out and imagine it’s just the two of you. Cas’s choice of clothing may not be prime hiking wear but the angel wears it as only an angel could. The shoes don’t bother him and he moves smoothly in an outfit Jimmy probably couldn’t wait to be rid of at the end of the work day. You follow Cas, far enough not to crowd but close enough to see every step he makes. Eventually you amuse yourself by trying to place your feet exactly where he steps. His strides are long and purposeful and hard to mimic, but you manage for a while.

Until you run into Cas’s back and when you step away, Cas, Dean, and Sam are all staring at you. Well. This is embarrassing. But also kind of funny, so you smile and say, “What?”

Sam snorts and Dean is the first to laugh. “Were you literally following in Cas’s footsteps?” Dean asks.

You want to make a ‘footprints in the sand’ joke but can’t figure out how to make it work right away, so you shrug and say, “Can’t think of anything better.”

Dean and Sam turn towards the house, amused, but Cas’s expression is sad. “I can think of almost anything better,” he mutters and turns to go with them.

You catch his hand. “Maybe sometimes that isn’t the best idea, but I can think of plenty of times it’s been the best. Mostly when you’re making your own.”

He leans his head to one side and seems to seriously consider it. His smile is hesitant and he shakes his head. But he is smiling, so you consider that a win. “For now, we should follow theirs,” he says and motions you to come with.

“That’s just called keeping them alive,” you say, and Cas chuckles but matches his stride so that you walk together.


	9. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You admire Cas in firelight, and he keeps you warm.

 

It is well into the night that finds you all scratched, bruised and panting over the flames of an open mass grave. One dick of a spirit had led to a whole host of unruly ghosts. It was no wonder the body count had been so high. But the problem is solved, and the previously-unknown serial killer is now gone, as are his victims. You can only hope they’re at peace, and that he will never know it. Knowing your luck, though, you’ll probably come across his black-eyed soul eventually.

You look across the fire. Dean and Sam are warming themselves in front of it and Cas rolls his eyes. You quickly pull your own hands back from the warmth, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. The fire casts a light up and illuminates every curve of his face. The shadows curl around his features and highlight the glow of his cheeks and eyes, and…

Cas is suddenly next to you and you smile at him, taking in the much closer sight of an angel lit by firelight. The fire’s reflection dances in his eyes as he looks at you and you swallow hard. You don’t flinch away as he raises two fingers to your forehead and the pain of the night’s activities (getting thrown into walls while Dean and Sam take their sweet-ass time uncovering the relatively shallow, if sizeable, grave) fades away with his healing. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“Are you cold?” Cas asks and you notice your hands have again gravitated towards the warmth of the fire.

Embarrassed at the impropriety, you quickly dig them back under your armpits and hold yourself tight. “It’s, uh…nothing.”

“Hmm,” Cas rumbles and gently puts an arm around you and pulls you closer. You can’t tell, at first, if the sudden rush of warmth you’re feeling is from Cas or just because you can’t get a hold of yourself. You think it doesn’t really matter though, and if Cas is willing to do this for you…well, it’d be rude to refuse. So you snuggle closer and think that this might be it. This might be the moment you’ve been waiting for.

You sigh, though, because it isn’t going to happen and you know it. Maybe it’s because you’re a chicken. Maybe it’s because you’re standing in front of a bunch of burning bodies that were previously people that were tortured and murdered in horrifying ways. Maybe it’s because Sam and Dean are in earshot.

“Hey now, do we get warm angel hugs?” Dean mocks and you groan. Speak of the assholes.

“No,” Cas says simply but lets you go so you can stand straighter.

“Why not?” Dean asks. You resist the urge to glare at him. Barely.

“Because you acted like a dick,” Cas says in the matter-of-fact way only Cas can.

You burst out laughing, both at the simple way he said it and the look on Dean’s face when he heard it. The mix of shock, betrayal, and _pride_ comes together to form a truly twisted expression as confusing as it is hilarious. Sam joins you, Dean cusses you out (mostly) playfully, and, when you look, Cas’s soft smile is perfectly illuminated by the dying fire.


	10. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manticores suck. Luckily you have an angel on speed dial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Reader in peril, descriptions of pain/illness, angsty, open ending that will be picked up on tomorrow.

 

The fight is chaotic– or was– is– you don’t really know anymore; colors are

_“Stop! C’mon killer, you gotta–”_

flashing by, like you’re rolling downhill at insane speeds, but you know you aren’t really and the disconnect makes you ill like you’ve never been before. You try to find a comfortable position but you’re thrashing about because your body just won't **listen**

_Sam says your name over and over as he tries to pin you down and Dean paces and shouts himself hoarse trying to reach_

to you and you’re so sick but nothing’s coming up.

 

Your hand hits dirt and the coolness of it bring you back somewhat. Sam is pinning you down, looking concerned and when you make eye contact with him he whispers your name. You whimper and clutch the cold dirt in your hand, you squeeze it, trying to (almost literally) ground yourself but something sharp pierces you and you scream as the illness comes back but with agonizing pain and you fight against him. It’s like fire is entering your body through your hand and you want it shut and somehow you feel if you can just put the blood back you’ll be better, so much better and oh God even a minute ago seems like a dream compared to how you’re feeling now.

The feeling suddenly stills, fills your chest uncomfortably, like you’re just waiting to burst. Bright light makes you shut your eyes and you whimper and

_“What happened?”_

_“We were_ – _”_

curl up. You can’t scream as hard as you want to and it’s making you gag and choke. The colors are swir

 _“_ – _thought it_ – _”_

ling in your head

 _“_ – _witches_ – _”_

now and your body burns. You’re pretty sure you’ll never have peace

 _“What the fuck is a manticore doing in_ – _”_

again.

 _“_ – _anyways?!”_

“Stand back!” a strong, steady, thrumming voice pierces through the pain– well, gets your attention at least and you try to lift your head to see the source but you can’t, so you roll it in the direction. Bright light and shadows and wings, but not feathered; pitch black and shining with moving stars, like a pretty cut out.

“Oh, you,” you say (you think). “Can’t do anything without you these days.” But again, you’re not sure your tongue is cooperating.

“Be still,” you feel more than hear and suddenly you can’t see or hear or feel at all. Bliss.


	11. Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas takes care of you.

 

“You sure you’re bundled up enough there, Buttercup?”

Powerpuff, princess, or plain infantilizing nickname, you just aren’t in the mood for Dean giving you crap. It takes about a year for you to get your arm to move, and then another century to pull it out of your blanket hovel. Dean waits patiently through all this and laughs when you flip him off. The air, though, still feels cold enough to be pinpricks on your skin, so you pull the exposed limb back in as fast as you can and you groan at the ache that causes. This _sucks_.

“How’re you feeling kid?” Dean asks and there’s enough sincerity in his question that you decide to forgo lambasting him for the stupid question.

“Like I’ve got ten flus at once,” you grump. Your head pulses with steady ache, you’re still sort of cold no matter that you have enough blankets on to look three times as big as you normally do, and your muscles feel like you’ve worked out for 40 hours straight. Manticore poison detox: it’s fucking fantastic.

“The soup’s been going low and slow but it’ll be ready soon,” Dean says and stands. “You want some crackers?”

You have to carefully consider this because the last time you had anything solid… “Yes,” you decide. “And mostly broth?”

“So you can crush the crackers and sprinkle them in?” Dean says, looking faintly amused.

“Is this why we’re best friends?”

“Well it certainly isn’t because you jump between me and fucking manticore barbs.”

“You have a funny way of saying ‘thanks’.”

Dean ruffles your head and makes the beanie move to an uncomfortable position. You whimper but he grins and leaves and you mutter semi-terrible things about him under your breath as you struggle to fix it. Once it’s finally set back in place, more or less, you let out a sigh of relief just before the rustle of wings sounds right next to you.

“Well now, since when did a fuzzy rock move in here?” Gabriel asks and comes around the couch to look at you. His smile lessens somewhat and you might be having a fever dream because you think there’s unmasked concern when he says, “You okay, gumdrop?”

“I’m fine. Recovering,” you say.

“Recovering from the bubonic plague?”

“Manticore poisoning.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “You three take a hunter’s holiday to Greece or something?”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely,” you grumble. Greece sounds warm to you. It probably isn’t right now, but a Mediterranean vacation still sounds like a nice thing. “Fucking Georgia, of all places. The state, not the country.” That’s probably not warm even a little bit.

“Huh,” Gabriel says, brilliantly. He leans in. “Why didn’t Cas heal you?”

“The shock of removing all the poison at once could be too much for her system to bear,” Cas says and you jump because you didn’t know he was there. He drapes a blanket around you though and you shut your eyes at the warmth of his borrowed body. He pulls away and you bite back a sigh. “I did as much as I could but this should still be handled in stage–”

“Hey, do that again,” Gabriel says. The amusement in his voice makes you crack open an eye. That face. That grinning, devious face. You do _not_ like that face.

“What?” Cas asks and if you could make the little throat-slitting motion you would. On Gabriel's throat. With an angel blade.

“Hug her,” Gabe said and Cas stiffly gave you a hug which you tried to respond to just as stiffly but it felt really, really good. “You know, that might be better than the blankets.”

“Hugging?” Cas asked

“Oh yeah, can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” Dean says as he brings a tray with your soup and this– this is a nightmare, right? You really, really want it to be a bad dream, Dean and Gabe smiling at you like that. You’re going to wake up now. Aaaaany second. “Body heat, Cas,” Dean says and sets your dinner down. “Your body heat is going to be warmer than any blanket.”

“Ah,” Cas says and you decide to avoid this conversation by eating Dean’s delicious smelling soup. You need a reminder for why you put up with him, because this– this conversation definitely isn’t it. Thankfully they move on to other topics while you eat, and you take the couple of pills Dean put on your tray. You’re so tired you decide you’re going to skip the movie you were planning to watch and head straight for blissful unconsciousness.

“Perhaps you and Sam should share your body heat,” Cas says and helps you as you fumble to wrap at least one blanket around you.

“Actually, Gabe’s taking Sam to meet with Kevin about some boring tablet shit.” Dean waves his hand. “Hey…maybe you could do it? I would, but I have a date.”

A date? He’s just going to go drinking and flirting. Probably just with the bartender, for more drinks. You have half a mind to say ‘bullshit’ but then Cas would want to know _why_ he’s lying and you can’t explain that without having maybe the worst confession outside of an actual confessional. So you can’t call Dean out on it and he knows it, the bastard.

“It’s easy, Cas.” Dean’s eyes are _shining_ as they look to you. “You just need to tuck our little killer into bed. Lay there for a little bit; make it nice and toasty.”

Laser eyes. You need laser eyes. Powered by holy fire. Your dreams tonight will be filled with sweet, sweet murder at the very least. But you try to soften up when Cas looks at you, and you say, “I’ll be fine, Cas.”

“Yes, you will,” he says resolutely and you sag with relief. Too soon. “I will watch over you while Dean and Sam are busy.”

Gabriel’s grin splits his face and he and Dean trade a surreptitious fist bump behind Cas. You never thought you would long for the days when they didn’t get along. “Y-you don’t have to,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“No, he’s not, and if he is then I can handle it while Sam and Kevin act like nerds.” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. “Unless you’d rather _I_ play nurse-maid…”

You scowl at him and definitively state, “No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Cas says. “Have a pleasant evening, Dean, Gabriel.”

Those two waste no time in getting out of your way. Dean takes the tray back to the kitchen and Gabriel disappears as Gabriel does. Your head is filled with rude things to say about them but your body is drooping. Now that you’re nice and full, and slightly less freezing, you feel the pull of sleep like never before.

“Do you want your blankets wrapped around you?” Cas asks and grabs one.

“No, um…actually, Cas, I’m really tired. I think I’ll just go to bed.” You smile apologetically at him, but he just nods.

“Excellent decision. You should rest,” Cas says.

And picks you up.

You jerk, suddenly _very_ awake and aware of the bridal hold Cas has you in. “Uh, Cas? You don’t have to do this,” you say and hold his neck because you don’t know what to do. Is this for real?

“You are not heavy,” he says patiently, like _that_ must be your only argument to this. But you don’t get a chance to say anything else because suddenly you’re at your room and Cas is setting you down in bed. “I will be right back,” he promises and disappears. And reappears with your pile of blankets.

“Um, I don’t think I’ll need as many of those. They get too heavy,” you say and shimmy under your covers. You wince at how cold they are but persist.

“I see. I’ll pick out a few,” he says and rifles through until he’s sorted out some. There’s a fuzzy one he lays on first, then an itchier but undeniably warm one you got at a flea market ages ago, and then…

“This one I find to be very warm and…soothing,” Cas says and tops you off with his blanket, the one you laid on him those nights ago. You have no idea where he found it– you’ve tried looking for it since…for washing, of course– but here it is. And he likes it enough to comment on it. Did he like it before you laid it on him? Did he find it soothing after, because someone (please please let him not know who) cared enough to cover him? Was–

“Uh, Cas?” you say with a slight tinge of alarm as you come out of your head to see him cast his shirt down with the outerwear already on the floor. You can see his bare chest even in the dim light and you are not ogling ( _you are not going to ogle God damn it_ ) but you can’t help but wonder _why_.

“Body heat,” he says and you hope that his words are just coincidentally matched to your inner question because you might actually beg a Reaper to take you away if he heard any of that.

All of that, however, fades quite quickly when he slides under the sheets next to you and you moan because, _oh_ , ‘body heat’ is way more than a pick-up than Gabe and Dean probably hoped for. “It feels good?” Cas asks, pleased in tone.

“So warm. You’re the best,” you mumble and snuggle closer because, right now, Cas could be a wendigo for all you give a flying fuck. He’s warm and soft and it’s quiet and dark and none of this seems weird, for all it should be. Cas is gentle, not awkward, and it slowly dawns on you that this might be the moment. The one you’ve been waiting for.

“Cas…you are so…” is all you get out before sleep takes you.


	12. Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel uses a reward system to get the juicy details of the night before out of you. Cas’s unexpected arrival flusters you into attempting a confession. You can’t say it goes well. You can say Gabriel will never ever let you live this down.

 

You enter the bunker, exhausted but happy. You’ve stopped freezing and you’re feeling mostly normal, just tired. You’ve managed to get up enough energy to run to the store (just a small run for essentials) and now you’re back, successful, tired, and–

You blink and wonder if you’ve stepped into the wrong place. Just for a second, because the bunker is very distinctive, but right now it very distinctively looks like Halloweentown. Or a set piece from “Hocus Pocus”. Fake spider webs, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, and various other items and art combine to make the library… _festive_.

“Hey, I’m back! Did you already go…on…” Sam trails off as he comes to stand next to you. “Uh…did you…?”

You look up at him, wondering if he’s serious. “Dude. I could barely lift a gallon of milk at the store. Do you really think I can manage to hang a gothic chandelier and saddle it with a plastic Miley skeleton?”

“Good point,” Sam says.

“I called him Jerry, but we could rename him ‘Milo’,” Gabriel says cheerfully, now sitting next to the skeleton on the new chandelier. He puts an arm around his new friend. “He came in like a wrecking ball,” Gabriel says ‘sadly’. “That’s pretty fatal for humans.”

“Shouldn’t he be a pile of broken bones and dust, then?” you ask.

“I’m not exactly going to realism here,” Gabriel says and knocks on the plastic. “I figure it’d be a tough sell with this crowd.”

“You’re probably right on that.” You look back at Sam. “And, uh, about that milk…it’s still in my car, with a few cartons of juice. Do you mind…?”

“Yeah, I’ll get ‘em.” He smirks at you. “You want me to also grab that _very heavy-_ looking bag you’re holding?”

You scowl and swing the “very heavy” bag of chips and pretzels right into his face. He takes the hit and stumbles away, laughing, right past Dean who walks in saying, “Hey, hey! Don’t smash the ch–” before he realizes what he’s seeing, stops, and stares. “What the _fuck_?”

“Hi Deanie!” Gabriel lies across the chandelier, very “Titanic”-esque. “How do you like it?”

“Change it back,” Dean says immediately.

“But then it won't look nice for the Halloween party!”

“The wh–” Dean almost audibly reboots. “We’re _not_ having a Halloween party.”

“Sure we are! Don’t worry; it’s just a little shindig. Charlie and I already have it planned out,” Gabriel says. “You three, me, Cas, Kevin and Mama, Charlie, Garth…”

“You and Charlie planned–” Dean, fuming, takes his phone out and storms down the hall. You watch him go, feeling a little bad for Charlie, but if anyone has a shot of sweet-talking Dean into this, it’s her.

You turn back and jump a bit at Gabriel’s sudden closeness. “Sorry,” he says unapologetically and holds up a bowl full of candy. “Want some?”

You eye the bowl seemingly filled entirely with your favorites and reach to grab one, but Gabriel yanks it away. “How about…you get two pieces of candy for every one question of mine you answer. Sounds like a deal, right?”

‘Sounds like’ is a lot different from ‘is a’ and you squint at Gabriel because he might be an angel at the base but he’ll always be a trickster through and through. “Come on, just a few questions?” He shakes the bowl. “Look at all the good stuff I got…”

You shouldn’t, but you do, and _oh_ , you haven’t had _those_ since you were a kid, where did he–

“Ah ah!” Gabriel moves the bowl away from your wandering hand. “Question and answer time.”

“Okay,” you say and start looking for your first two.

“Question one: what happened when Dean and I left last night?”

“I wanted to go right to bed so Cas took me there, laid down with me, and I knocked out almost right away,” you say and snag your picks.

“Way to take the romance out of it,” Gabriel grumbles.

“Not much romance to be had when I feel like shit,” you point out.

“Well, it’s all about the details anyway,” Gabriel says. He grins. “He got in bed with you?”

“Yes.” You duck to hide a smile. “And uh…he took his shirt off before, too. Y’know, ‘cause…”

“Body heat!” Gabriel says in awe and practically cackles. “I love my overly literal baby brother!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble and take your prizes.

“You do too,” Gabriel says. He looks right at you. “Our little Castiel, cuddled up to you, shirtless? How did _that_ feel?”

“Honestly, it was more, um…” You clear your throat. “…When he was undressing. When he got into bed, though, he was so nice and _warm_ and I couldn’t really give a shit about anything else.”

“Wow. You really _were_ sick yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, but really, sick or not–” Gabriel snaps and the bowl disappears. “–Did you _try_ to make a move? _Think_ about making a move?”

You make a pleased noise, unbidden. “That’s two questions.”

“Better make the answer worth it then,” he says in warning.

You roll your eyes but he’ll find out about it anyways. “Sort of– sort of both?” You roll your shoulders. “It felt like a good…moment. So I was going to. I tried. But I got, like, half a sentence into it and then– and then I fell asleep.”

“ _Seriously_?”

It’s embarrassing but you have to stifle a laugh. “Yeah.”

Gabriel snorts, slowly works into laughter, and then you both are laughing at it. You kind of have to, because Gabriel wheezes, “who falls asleep during their own love confession?!” and you kind of have to agree. When you’re both calm, and you’re fishing for your candy, Gabriel says, “Charlie’s gonna love that.”

You stop and blink. “You told Ch–” You glare at him. “How many people did you tell?”

“Weeeeelllllll,” he drawls. And holds up a hand. _Oh no_. “Sam, Dean, Charlie…” he counts. “Kevin and Linda.”

“Gabriel!”

“Don’t worry, they’re all sworn to secrecy,” Gabriel grins and you realize he’s more of a devil than his damn brother. “Besides, Kevin is still all ‘woe is the prophet me,’ and Linda just said how obvious it was. Charlie ships it hardcore, bee tee dubs.”

“Of course she does,” you mutter and take back anything nice you thought about her today. You hope Dean is still reaming her about the party.

Oh shit…the party…

You make a private amendment to your self-made deal: you have to tell Cas before the party because otherwise Charlie is going to ‘help’ and the only thing worse than Charlie and Gabriel ‘helping’ separately is Charlie and Gabriel ‘helping’ in tandem.

Gabriel is relaxing and eating a piece of candy of his own, oblivious to the storm in your head. “You know you don’t have to wait for some big moment to make a dramatic reveal, right? Why not try it… _in_ directly?”

You have to reset your brain to follow along with the topic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean telenovelas are entertaining and all, but you don’t have to lay it all on the line right at the very beginning,” Gabriel says. “You could ease into it. Like…”

He holds a Hershey Kiss by the paper, says, “Want a kiss?” and looks at you with _intense_ bedroom eyes.

“That–” You laugh. “Gabriel, that is so _lame_. And he wouldn’t even get the joke!”

“That’s when you explain it.” Gabriel claps his hands hard. “Boom! Your first personal in-joke. C’mon, just try it on me.”

“I-I don’t think I–” You’re laughing too much to say a full sentence even as Gabriel hands you a candy kiss.

“Come on kiddo, I know what I said but you should at least be serious enough to get the words out.”

“Okay, okay.” You breathe deep and calm yourself, even though this still seems stupid. When you see Cas suddenly right next to Gabriel you freeze. “Uh. Ah. Cas. H-hi, um…hi.”

He murmurs your name and are his eyes even bluer today? He seems even more attractive than usual and it’s tripping you up something fierce. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Fine. Tired.” You’re still holding the piece of candy up and Cas looks at it and fuck, he’s going to ask about it, isn’t he, this is awkward, so awkward.

Your mouth moves fast than your brain does. “Do you want one of–” fuck, no, that’s wrong, what was it ag– “This is a–” this is bad, real bad. “Do you…” your brain has now ejected your body and all you can do is say, “…want…one?”

The ‘ ** _smack!_** ’ of Gabriel’s palm meeting his forehead echoes in the library. Cas gives him a courtesy glance but turns all his concern on you and touches your forehead. “No thank you. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you say lamely.

“Then make certain you get some rest. I’ll try to check on you later,” he says and turns to Gabriel. “I have been calling you for–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel waves him off and shoves the bowl of candy in your arms with a half-amused smile on his face. “Have fun with these.”

With that, they’re gone. You sigh and put the bowl down. After only a thought, you grumble under your breath and unwrap the Kiss. You might as well– at this rate, it seems like this is the only way you’re going to get one.


	13. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An odd hunt leads to you getting some interesting insight into Cas’s feelings regarding you.

 

“Seriously? Like ‘mirror mirror on the wall who’s the fairest of them all’?”

“Was that mirror even evil?” Dean asks and you shrug.

“Can you two focus?” Sam asks. Dean rolls his eyes back onto the road and you grumble and lean over Sam’s shoulder. You don’t actually read the screen because you know Sam’s just gonna rattle it off for you. It’s just as well; the sun is too bright and glaring and the font is tiny. You rest your head on the seat and shut your eyes.

“Deaths have been picking up in the last couple of years, all following this mirror,” Sam says. “One of the more recent victims, Mrs. Sandra Doyle, apparently told her sister she had seen some other woman when she looked into it. A day later, Sandra and her husband were found dead.”

“So like ‘Bloody Mary’?” Dean asks.

You snort. “Bloody Mary isn’t real.”

“Not the real one. That we’ve found.” Sam smiles with his voice. “But we did get a ghost that once– hey; are you _sleeping_?”

“Yes, I often talk in full sentences when I sleep.” You crack open one eye to glare at Sam. “The sun’s bright. I’m listening.”

“Ah, it’s okay Sammy. Our little killer’s just daydreaming about pretty blue eyes and what an angel knows what to do with a tie,” Dean says and clicks his tongue.

You think of the myriad ways you can respond to that. Since Cas isn’t here and has been forbidden from popping into the car without prior warning, you go with: “My, my; is that competition I hear?”

“Nah; we decided we’re better off as friends.” Dean’s green eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror and he winks. “You go get ‘im, tiger.”

“Ugh!” You smack the back of his head lightly. “I hate you sometimes.”

“Hey, hey, no hitting the driver.” Dean smirks and your stomach sinks at the promise of embarrassment in his tone. “I don’t care how cranky you are that you’re not gettin’ any.”

“Oh my God, _Dean_!”

“Anyways!” Sam says loudly over your righteous fuming and Dean’s infuriating laughter. You’re silent and Dean uses that time to otherwise nonverbally gloat. Sam shakes his head. “But seriously, mutilated victims with no other way of entry or not, there’s one thing that doesn’t add up to this being a ghost: there’s always a robbery to go along with the murders.”

“What?” you ask.

“Then how is this even our thing? Psycho burglar?” Dean asks but Sam shakes his head.

“There’s too much about these murders that isn’t humanly possible. But what would a ghost need with money and jewelry?” Sam asks rhetorically. “I figure Dean and I will play FBI and go down to the station and see the bodies. You, take these.” He hands back a pile of print-outs and you start going through them. “In there is the address for the most recent crime scene; it should still be closed off. Take the EMF reader with you and look around for anything strange.”

“All right; we have a plan!” Dean says. “If things go well, by tomorrow we’ll be smashing Cinderella’s evil mirror.”

“Snow White,” you and Sam say in unison.

Dean huffs and grumbles, “Who even cares. Freakin’ nerds.”

 

“You okay?”

You pant and nod and struggle to sit up. Because you’re you, and the Winchesters still have the shittiest luck in any plane of existence, nothing has gone well. It was a ghost. And a witch. Thankfully, Cas is here, helping you up, and the witch is–

Sam and Dean and you all cry out when you’re thrown away from each other. You feel a little pressure but you slip out from under it, grab your gun, and get back on your feet to see Sam and Dean, suspended and pinned to the wall behind the witch who, while battered and bruised, is now holding a knife at Cas’s throat. It’s not an angel blade and Cas looks like he’s going to smite her where she stands, but you still don’t know where the mirror is.

_Cas, let her think she’s won for a second_ , you pray quickly. Cas blinks, but slowly raises his hands as if surrendering. Dean and Sam look confused but they shut their mouths. You swallow hard, and with your gun still pointed right at her, you force your hands to shake _just_ enough to be noticeable. You can still kill her if necessary, but you need to be convincing.

“Oh, a _baby_ hunter.” She laughs. “How cute. Put the gun down sweetheart, or I’ll slit his throat before moving onto the other ones.”

“I– I can’t!” you say, adding a waver to your voice that makes you sound pathetic and desperate. Sam and Dean force themselves neutral and you’re grateful for it. The last thing you need is Dean making this harder.

“Well, okay then.” She shrugs. “But with the way you’re shaking you’re more likely to hit the giant idiots behind me, or the one in front of me. Keep that in mind.”

You shake your head. You swallow hard again, making sure it’s visible. “Why– why are you doing this? Killing entire families…it can’t really just be for money, can it?”

“What can I say? Spell casting is an expensive hobby,” she says. You’re tempted to roll your eyes. Because there are a few noticeable touch-ups on Samantha’s body that probably weren’t cheap either. And yes, Samantha, because she definitely isn’t young enough to be Sabrina.

“I bet spell ingredients for a hex bag to protect yourself from a murderous ghost are pretty damn pricey,” Sam says.

“Oh honey. I don’t need _protection_ ,” the witch says. She narrows her eyes at you and her smile is chillingly wicked. It’s kind of all you can do not to just shoot her in the face. “You came looking for the mirror, right? Well be careful what you wish for, because you’re about to find it. Go to the desk and look behind it.”

You hesitate and she presses the dagger to draw a line of blood. Cas stiffens appropriately and you gasp– legitimately, on instinct. You know Cas is fine, probably doesn’t even feel it, but the sight of him being ‘hurt’ gets you at a gut level. You back up, gun in hand, and do as she says. _Bingo_ , you think as you lean the mirror against the desk and pull away the sheet covering it.

The ghost appears immediately within it and you jerk back a few steps. Dean calls your name, and Cas’s. Cas repeats your name in your head but you’re on high alert now and ‘pray’ a quick, _Cas, I’ve got this!_

You take aim.

“Are you seriously going to _shoot_ a _ghost_?” the witch laughs mockingly.

The ghost is a sad, angry thing; she looks young but has long gray hair that waves like it’s being blown by a slow-motion wind. She approaches you with jerky motions, but your eyes travel to a button on her shoulder. At first it seems no different from the one on her other shoulder, but then it glints in the light and in that moment you can tell it doesn’t belong.

You fire and shatter it. The ghost stops. The witch chokes in a breath. The ghost now looks less angry– more confused. You breathe a sigh of relief and relax. “What- what have you _done_?!” Samantha screams.

“Okay Cas,” you say, dropping all pretense and looking at the hag with as much contempt as you can. The witch, enraged, slices right across Cas’s throat and shoves him forward.

Though you cringe at the sight of Cas with such a gruesome injury, you take no small amount of satisfaction when the witch gapes at him not falling, and the way her eyes widen when he turns back to her. “What are you?!” she gasps and stumbles back.

“Let me show you,” Cas says lowly and holds his hand towards her, going to smite. The ghost suddenly appears next to him and grabs his wrist. He stops and looks at her, and they both stare silently for a moment. Cas lowers his arm and nods his head at the witch.

“No!” she screams and starts chanting. You figure she’s trying to trap the ghost back in the mirror so you do the only thing you can– you grab it and throw it as hard as you can to the floor. The glass smashes to pieces.

“NO!” the witch howls and that’s the last thing she ever says before the spirit gets her hooks into her. You turn away and wince at the sounds that will stay with you forever, but you don’t really regret what you did. Fucked up as it is.

Cas stands next to you and you feel better for his presence, even if he’s only barely touching his hand to your arm. You wait until the noise has ceased and turn to see the ghost, her last victim, and Sam and Dean holding out weapons at her and inching away. The ghost slowly turns back to face you and Cas and she looks tired, with a sad smile.

“No reaper will come to collect you, I’m afraid,” Cas says to her. “You can go on your own, or we can help you along. I recommend letting go, though. You are free now.”

She waits a moment and then nods. She aims a smile at you, and then…glows, and fades into nothing.

You release a breath, as do Sam and Dean. “Good job,” Sam says and ruffles your hair.

“Yeah. We are still torching that mirror,” Dean says, looking at the mess on the floor. “Pick up the pieces and put it on the base; Sam and I are gonna check for hex bags so we can burn it all at once.”

“Gotcha,” you say and kneel down as they leave the room. It isn’t a big job, as everything is contained in mostly one area. As you pick up a large shard that had gotten turned over mirror side up, though, your breath catches in your throat.

In it you can see Cas behind you, looking elsewhere, but stretching out from behind him, curving around you is…you squint. It’s getting fuzzy but that is definitely his wing. And it is, without a doubt his wing, around you. _Around_ you. You feel giddy and test it by moving forward and _holy shit it moves with you_. You quickly set the piece with the others and resist the urge to look again. It’s probably a coincidence. Hell, the mirror might not even necessarily show the truth. That thought depresses you –you remember a flash of something from the night you were poisoned and it’d be nice to see it when you’re not dying– but you stow the image away as simple wishful thinking.

Later that night you’re all sitting or leaning on Baby’s hood and watching the witch’s implements burn. Including the mirror. Sam comments absently, “I wonder how she trapped the ghost in there. We found the spell work for controlling spirits but nothing mentioned how to place a ghost like that.”

“She put an enchantment on the mirror itself,” Cas says. “I noticed one of the spells on it was to reveal things that cannot normally be seen by the human eye.”

You perk up, a shadow of black feathers crossing your mind. “Really?”

Cas nods solemnly. “It is good that it has been destroyed.”

You find you can’t fully agree with him, but you smile nonetheless. You think of the way that wing curved around you –protective– and the feeling that Cas gave you by his ‘mere presence’ when the ghost was finishing her business with the witch. Was that his wing too? His wings? Singular or plural, you can’t help but have a little hope. Maybe this thing with Cas is a little less one-sided than you thought.


	14. Ravens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend some time with Cas and his bird buddies.

 

You’re going to do it.

You’re going to pray to Cas, and he’s going to appear, and you’re going to tell him how you feel about him.

…Of course, you’ve been telling yourself this for…you look at a clock and immediately dismiss it. You can’t have been pacing in your motel room for over an hour; that’s _too_ pathetic. But you admit you have been doing it for a little while. You’re dressed nice (but not too nice), you’ve finished another hunt and aren’t leaving for another day, the world isn’t ending, Sam and Dean are doing whatever Sam and Dean do when they’re taking a day of R &R, and you are…

You sigh and realize that you really don’t want to do this, no matter how much you want it done and over with. That last bit seems a little harsh but it may be the truth– Cas might want your friendship and nothing more. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing (you try not to think about what is) but it still makes you nervous. Actually, even the best case scenario makes you nervous. You tell Cas you want to pursue a romantic relationship with him. He’s into it, but doesn’t know what to do. You then have the weight of a relationship on your shoulders–

You shake your head. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. So you decide to talk a walk. You grab a jacket to protect you from the mild cold and step out under grey skies. There’s a nice park with paths relatively close by so you head there, keeping your head down and trying not to swim in your own thoughts. Cas doesn’t seem to mind the idea of a relationship, but he has been busy. And you’re not such a bad candidate, you think. Cas likes you. You would do anything to make him happy. You know what he is and that he has to sometimes disappear and you don’t mind, because you know he always comes back. He knows and respects what you do.

You come upon a small grassy area lined with jogging paths that is mostly abandoned. Mostly, because there’s a familiar figure sitting in the middle of a bunch of…crows? Ravens? Whatever; it’s a bunch of black birds and for a second you think you might be worrying _too_ much about this thing (potential thing) with Cas because apparently you’re seeing trench coats and dark, mussed hair everywhere. You rub your eyes and look again. No, you’re pretty sure that’s…

“Cas?” you ask tentatively and slowly approach. The birds hop back a bit but Cas hushes them and speaks soothingly. They caw but don’t leave. In fact, the ones in your way move back so you can approach him.

“Ravens are such…interesting creatures,” Cas says and doesn’t stand. You kneel next to him and watch as he gently strokes the neck of one of them. The raven looks like he’s in birdie heaven. “They’re incredibly intelligent, playful, empathetic…it is hard to believe some humans ascribe them so closely with death and ill omens.”

You smile. “Some people are dumb,” you say. One of the ravens hops towards you and cocks his head. He’s so much like Cas you grin, but you hold out your empty hands. “Sorry little buddy; I don’t have any food for you.”

“Here,” Cas says and puts a small pile of berries in your hands. Several of the birds move closer and you eye their beaks warily, opting to set down the food a little distance away. The birds crowd around and pick at it, and Cas sets down another pile for the rest of the group.

“What brings you around here?” you ask and stop crouching to settle on your knees.

“I was just…around.”

You eye him. “Because…”

“I was speaking to Dean about something. Something private,” he says, not looking at you.

“Oh.” You look away. You know Dean and Cas have shared things other people can’t even imagine in their worst nightmares…but, against all logic, you’re a little jealous of that. The closeness.

“It’s nothing you or Sam need to worry about.” Cas puts a hand on your shoulder. “I just…needed some advice. Dean can be maddening, sometimes, but he has a unique way of…kicking me in the ass, I guess you can say.”

You snort at the colloquialism that comes out of Cas’s mouth far too matter-of-factly and you smile at him. You think that while you might never be as close to Cas as Dean is…that’s okay. Dean is one of your best friends too. And he and Sam both know something Cas doesn’t know, so really, it’s only fair.

The ravens are starting to disperse so you both stand up. You dust off your knees. “Sorry; didn’t mean to interrupt your ‘Black Winged Beauties’ club.”

Cas smiles and looks down, adorably embarrassed at your teasing and completely unaware that he could make you into an embarrassed, blubbering mess too if he saw your pathetic attempt at flirting for what it is. But he seems to think about something and he looks at you, tilting his head just so. “How do you know my wings are black?”

For whatever reason you don’t want him to know you used that mirror to peep on his wings. In hindsight it seems…intimate. “Uh, the witch–” no, shit, not that, fuck, “–Well th-the manticore that we thought was a witch…” Better… “When I was poisoned, and you came…I was a little out of it but I remember how bright it was, when you showed up, and I don’t remember exactly…but your wings were black, but kind of starry too. It was…”

He smiles. “Not exactly, but close,” he murmurs and glances behind his shoulder. “In a human’s eyes they actually might look similar to a raven’s. I like that idea.”

“Well, ravens are pretty,” you say. Your mind screams _LIKE YOU_ and you’re really glad he can’t hear that.

He makes eye contact with you; bright blue and holding the kindest, if not soul, then consciousness you know. You also know that whatever will be, will be. “Cas, I wanted to say–”

He holds his hand up and gets that faraway look he gets when Heaven’s calling. You slump and try not to look too defeated when he takes a step back. “I have to go. Can we continue this later?”

“Sure,” you say with a forced smile. He nods at you and is gone. And with him goes all your nervous energy, everything that was building up in you all day. It’s just…gone. You go over to a bench behind the path and fall onto it. You star up at the sky until something flutters next to you and you look down. It’s one of Cas’s ravens. You swear it’s studying you, and suddenly it lets out a caw.

“I know buddy. Story of my fucking life,” you huff and let your head fall back to stare at a dull gray sky.


	15. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because a restful night’s sleep is overrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angsty, description of serious injuries, gore, described character deaths.
> 
> A/N: This connects to tomorrow’s prompt. Don’t worry; fluff is coming.

 

Something is wrong.

You don’t know what it is but there’s just something _off_ – it’s too quiet, there’s a weird feeling, and a smell in the air you can’t place. There’s something about these tunnels too; you’re going through them too quickly and you try to remember, you try to remember but you can’t, you can’t remember what the plan was. Before going into a strange place you and Sam and Dean always go over the–

Your name comes in a scream from down the way. Dean. You want to scream back but you don’t know what you’re walking into so you pull out your blade and hurry as silently as you can down the long tunnel. You come out into a bigger area where the sewer pipes cross but there- there’s Dean and Sam, tied together, and Cas, looking agonized in the center of a small circle of holy fire. Dean and Sam though– you have to fight not to vomit. Dean’s leg is broken so badly half a broken femur is sticking straight out. Sam’s head is lolling back, his eyes cut out of his head. Their clothes are stained with blood entirely and cut open where their bodies have been carved into. Three demons stand around them, and turn to face you.

“It’s about time. They were waiting for you,” one of the demons says and you remember– you should have been here earlier but you weren’t. You don’t know why you weren’t and the way Dean looks at you, so much _hate_ in his eyes, it chokes you.

A demon stabs Sam, right in the heart and you scream. You try to charge in but you’re flung back into the wall and held there. Dean raises his head in defiance of that demon as she comes around to stand in front of him. He stares at you.

“Dean! No, stop; DEAN!” you scream.

“We never should have counted on you,” he growls but doesn’t resist as the demon yanks his head back and slits his throat. He jerks and gasps and chokes for so many agonized seconds before he finally, finally falls still.

Sam and Dean are dead. And it’s your fault.

“We need to barbeque the chicken,” another demon chuckles and douses Cas with holy oil. He stares at Sam and Dean, unflinching. Defeated.

“Cas! Cas! No, please, please don’t!” you scream and scramble to get to him, but it’s no use. “Cas!” you call but he doesn’t look at you. He purposefully doesn’t look at you.

“Where were you?” he whispers and the words stick in your heart like a sword. A demon lights a match, and Cas goes up in flames.

 

You open your eyes to darkness, panting and lying in bed. Bed, your bed, in the bunker. Tears fill your eyes and you take a few moments to breathe, to remember that it was just a dream. Just a bad dream. But you feel so hot, like the flames were right next to you. Acting on instinct you kick off the sheets and stumble up and out.

Dean’s room is open a crack so you peek in. He’s sleeping. Just…sleeping. No blood, and he shifts a little. You breathe a little easier and go to check on Sam. You very carefully open the door just a crack. Sam is tucked under the covers and sleeping peacefully. You close the door before you alarm him and you stumble back against the wall, trying to ground yourself. If they’re safe, then Cas is safe, and they’re all safe, because it was just a dream. Just a really bad…

You’re still shaking and crying and you still remember those images far too well. Sam and Dean, dead because of you. Cas, shattered and dead, because of you. But there’s truth there. Sam and Dean will one day die bloody on a hunt. That is the life you’ve all condemned yourselves to. And it may very well be your fault.

You shuffle on your way to the kitchen. Who needs sleep anyway.


	16. Hot Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas looks out for his hunters in his own way.

 

You sit down with a book at a table in the library and open it up. What it’s about you don’t really know; you just need an alibi for why you’re still awake when everyone is asleep. You stare at the page and the words seem to swim around. This is fine. Everything is…fine. Or will be, when the sun comes up and Sam and Dean are irritating the hell out of each other. You can hardly wait.

Your name is murmured and you try not to sag with relief when you turn and see Cas standing there, head cocked and eyes squinting at you. You smile at him and say, “Hey Cas.”

“You look tired,” he says and you admire his growing sense of tact. Before he would have pointed out how horrible you must look. Now he couches it.

“I’m all right, actually,” you say and smooth out your hair and clothes. You almost say that you can’t sleep before you think better of it. Cas would offer to help. “How are you, Cas?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He sits in the chair across from you and studies you. And the book. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, uh.” You look down but the preface is nigh-inscrutable right now. “I haven’t really dug into it yet.”

“That makes more sense,” Cas says and you look at him again. “I have been here for a few minutes. You didn’t respond until I said your name a fourth time.”

_Busted_. “Yeah. I guess I…zoned out a little,” you say and shrug.

“Because you are tired.”

“Nope,” you say. Cas is giving you a very stern look but you don’t feel bothered by it. He is whole and alive and not burning and you can’t stop appreciating it.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asks and you maybe don’t appreciate it _as_ much.

“I’m _fine_ ,” you say and look at the book. You don’t want to brush him off but you don’t want him thinking he knows best and sending you back to that nightmare. It still gives you the chills. So when Cas huffs and leaves, you feel a little saddened, but you did the right thing. Right?

A mug being nearly slammed next to you makes you jump, and it’s only then you realize you had started dozing. You curse under your breath and look at Cas, his brow raised and a exuding smug aura that you can almost _see_.

“I have to get you away from Sam and Dean, if only for a little while. You’ll all become too mired in stubborn self-destruction otherwise,” he says with a long-suffering sigh and flops back into the chair he had occupied previously.

You raise an eyebrow and sniff at the drink. “Hot toddy?”

“Dean partakes after his own nightmares,” Cas says. “Sam will have the apple-tea mixture sans alcohol. I compromised and added slightly less liquor to yours than Dean would have.”

“Dean’s amount of alcohol would be like a tranq to me,” you admit in a mutter and take a sip. It’s warm, smooth, and utterly soothing. “Guy kind of made himself out to be king of any drinking game by destroying his liver years ago. I…does he really drink hot toddies?” You figure Dean would go right for the bottle.

Cas smiles conspiratorially and puts a finger to his lips in the motion of ‘shh’. “It is reserved for…difficult nights,” he says.

“You make them for him?” you ask. “And tea for Sam?”

“Sometimes. As I mentioned– your shared self-destructive tendencies and all,” Cas says.

“It’s really good. Thank you,” you say. For a few minutes the silence is nice as you slowly enjoy your drink. Cas doesn’t seem bothered by the quiet and so neither are you. He gives you your space, and you feel your heartbeat slow to something more reasonable.

It is, of course, that moment that Cas asks, “Would you like to talk about it?” and you think he might be monitoring your heart rate too.

“Not really,” you say just to see if he would accept that. Cas merely nods, and after a second you realize why. You cringe. “Dean does that all the time, doesn’t he?”

“I believe the term is ‘peas in a pod’.”

“Ugh.” You make a face. You love Dean like you love Sam, but one brother is infinitely more infuriating than the other. And here you thought you were more well-adjusted than either of them.

“Sam has done it too. And he rarely divulges his dreams to me, even more so than Dean,” Cas says. “You do not have to. I just want you to know the option is there.”

You debate with yourself, but the dream is fading already and you don’t really want to revisit it. There will be other nightmares on other nights, but for right now, you feel okay. “I think…I think I’m good. But thanks, Cas.”

“Of course,” he says, like it really is that simple. And he smiles at you, with those crinkled eyes and flash of teeth that is so rare on the angel. “And, if you still feel unsettled, there is more where that–” He motions to the mug. “–Came from.”

You look at the cup and consider it. While you’re feeling better…you don’t really mind the idea of staying up a little longer and maybe enjoying another drink. And, perhaps, some much-wanted company.


	17. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas keeps you company.

 

You push your recently-refilled mug aside and do a double-take at the clock. “I seriously can’t believe it’s only midnight. It feels like three a.m. or something.”

“I was slightly concerned when I arrived and everything was so still,” Cas says. “I stopped in around ten and had to check on each of you to make sure everything was all right. You must have been tired.”

“We’ve been going pretty hard,” you say. “A weird sleep schedule is nothing new. Add it to living underground without windows and…”

“And your circadian rhythms are altered further,” Cas says and nods sagely, like he totally gets it. He probably sort of does– just a little more…scientific and detached than you. Still, it counts for something.

“I guess I’ll have to go back to sleep,” you say. There’s a slight amount of dread to go with that but it’s no longer enough to keep you up all night. It is just enough to make you hesitate, though.

“Are you still thinking of your nightmare?” Cas asks.

“A little,” you admit. “Did you ever have a nightmare when you were human, Cas?”

“I…think so.” He looks askance in memory. “I don’t remember the details. I just remember waking up and feeling so unsettled. Not terrified, just… _wrong_.”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” you say. “They’re not always big dramatic things. They can be just as annoying when they’re quietly unnerving.”

“This one was big though?” Cas asks.

“Pretty big.”

“Was it a memory?”

“No. Just…a possibility,” you say and rest your head in your arms. You blink away the blood. “I think I’ll be okay if I think of something else.”

“Something happy,” Cas says. “Like when Sam was so excited by his discovery of the ancient hunter’s codex and he ran into the kitchen and slid on the floors Dean had just mopped.”

You snort at the memory and shake with repressed laughter. “Like a cartoon dog,” you say and make a motion to imitate how baffled Sam “Giant Puppy Dog” Winchester had been as he surfed across Dean’s squeaky clean floors. “Dean was such a mom about it too.”

“I believe Sam had his revenge when Dean broke that museum piece. It was a fossil, wasn’t it?”

“Oh man, Sam chewed him out so bad. Dean was lucky the curator didn’t catch him or we’d have been so fucked,” you chuckle. Dean’s face when he actually broke the piece was as picturesque ‘oh _shit_!’ as they came. It probably should’ve been in the dictionary.

Cas smiles at you and you smile back, sharing in some entertaining memories with him. However you can hear someone else approaching and you focus your attention there. You can take the hunter out of the unsafe motels and dilapidated buildings, but you can’t take the survival skills out of the hunter.

“Hey,” Dean yawns as he walks in, adorned in his favorite robe and hair sleep-mussed. “What are you doing up?”

His eyes graze the table and you try to hide your mug, though you’re pretty sure he sees it. “Nothing,” you say, despite that.

“Hm.” He eyes you a bit too critically for your liking. “I know a lot about nothing.” He clears his throat and looks at Cas. “On a completely unrelated note…how’s the tea stock doing? Sammy’s gonna bitch me out if we cleaned it completely.”

“That stock is for everyone. If Sam wants more he can add it to the grocery list,” Cas says primly, unaffected by the threat of a looming moose.

You chuckle, and then are caught up in a yawn. “I should, um…go to bed. I think I’m tired,” you say and grab your mug.

“Here; I was going to the kitchen to get some water anyway,” Dean says and gestures for the mug.

You hand it over but can’t resist. “Dean Winchester drinking _water_?”

“Shaddup,” he says and moves to hit your head, but you duck. “Get back to bed. Hey Cas; you sticking around?”

“If you don’t mind. I have some time to myself,” Cas says.

“You have your own room Cas. I think if anyone minded they would have said something before now,” you say. “Stay.”

“If you want me to, then I don’t see how I can refuse,” Cas says.

_Oh, you have no idea_ , you think. But somewhere in you, you really hope he does.


	18. Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt goes awry and brings to mind your insecurities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angsty thoughts, choking

 

You feel like you’re in a bad horror movie, with the way the weather is. The fog is thick enough to cover up the crappiest of special effects and, unfortunately, the thing you’re currently hunting. You’re still not sure of that either– what it is. Last you spoke with Sam and Dean you couldn’t agree on whether it was a ghost or shapeshifter. Or, as Sam suggested, a shapeshifting ghost, because it wasn’t like those two things were fucking terrifying enough.

Shapeshifting ghost, ghost of a shapeshifter, or one or the other, this leaves you in the unenviable position of trying to balance a rock-salt loaded shotgun in one arm while still keeping a hand free to go for the gun with silver bullets. It’s kind of a mess, but you haven’t yet tried to see how many things the angel blade can kill, and honestly that’s not something you’re really willing to test in the heat of the moment. Alone. With super low visibility and backup combing the other acres of the farm. Seriously; has Dean never seen a horror movie? At least it isn’t a graveyard. If you die you don’t want to tick _all_ the boxes.

A branch snaps behind you and you turn, lifting the shotgun to hurt whatever is there. But Cas tilts his head curiously and you sigh and lower the gun. “Geeze, Cas; you gave me a heart attack,” you sigh and turn back around.

“My apologies,” he says stiffly. “Do you need me to…”

“Not literally, Cas,” you say and start walking. He walks with you and it’s hard to concentrate on the hunt. “What are you doing here?”

“I had some time. What are you doing?” he asks.

You’re tempted to joke about being on vacation, but he seems to be overly literal tonight. “Hunting.”

“What in particular?”

“Dunno exactly,” you admit and glance back. “Either a ghost, a shifter, or a combination of both. But the thing’s dropping bodies like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I see,” Cas murmurs. “That sounds very dangerous. Should you be out here, alone?”

“I’m fine, Cas.” You turn. “I–”

He kisses you. Cas is _kissing_ you. You stand, stock still, because this is not how you imagined it happening. Maybe you’re a bit of a romantic but it feels…anticlimactic. All this stressing and fretting and it just happens, with no words exchanged, and–

You pull away. He feels cold; emotionless, like this is just paint-by-numbers. “Cas, what the hell?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t…help myself.” He squints. “Did you not enjoy it?”

“Uhh…I’m just…wondering where the h- where that came from,” you say guardedly.

“It came from me. To you.” He moves closer and put his hand on your cheek. His voice lowers. “I know you care for me.”

This still doesn’t feel right. “And what about how you feel?”

“That’s inconsequential, isn’t it?”

This is definitely wrong. It feels like something straight out of your ‘worst-case scenarios,’ where Cas is only going through the…motions…

You blink and stand dumbfounded for a moment. _Wings_ , you think to yourself. With how closely you were listening to your surroundings, you should have heard him fly in.

You didn’t hear his wings.

You try to act casual as you go for your phone, but the ghost (there’s no way this thing got a drop on Cas even if he is here) is too fast; there’s a flurry of movement but you end up on your back on the ground, his hands squeezing your neck. You gasp, kick, and try to scramble for your shotgun.

“Stupid human,” not-Cas sneers and looks so distant above you. The way he tilts his head now seems like a mockery and you wonder how he knows, how does he know to act like this? “What made you think you could be good enough for an angel? Why did you think I could ever love _you_?”

“Not– him!” you gasp out but he puts more pressure and you feel like your head is about to explode. You scratch but know it’s no use; you just don’t have the energy to…

A shotgun cracks nearby and suddenly you can breathe. You start sucking in all the air you can get but your throat feels pinched and it isn’t enough; it’s not nearly enough! Dean is suddenly next to you, holding on and repeating your name over and over. “Slow down; deep breaths. Stay with me killer; just keep breathing!”

Tears slip out but you follow his instructions, painful as they are. He supports you until you’re mostly back to normal, and once you can stand you grab your shotgun and cock it. “You sure you’re ready?” Dean asks and stands with you.

“Not like we’ve got the time,” you say, wincing at the pain and the weird way your hoarse voice cracks.

“Take it easy. We just gotta find the remains to burn this sucker.”

“Sam?” you ask.

“I don’t know yet. I’m sure he’s fine,” Dean says but he stares at you for a longer while and flicks open his lighter.

You’re tempted to vocalize your frustration, but resist. “Dean, that thing was in my head, saying shit I sometimes say to myself. Something you need to share with the class?”

His eyes go wide. Everything is silent for several seconds– no ghost.

Dean takes off running and you chase after him. He’s faster than you and it’s all you can do to follow his form in this fog. Shots sound from a distance and you push yourself even harder. Though Dean surges ahead, you follow the sounds until you come out of the fog to a small plot of graves and see the ghost dissolved by rock salt. But the fucker, persistent one that he is, shows up again and you blast him.

“Go!” Dean shouts at Sam and you and Dean stand guard as Sam goes back to digging. Not-Cas shows up in front of you and stalks forward. Dean goes to shoot it but you push his gun down and, though you keep your own raised, you start moving away from him. Dean hisses your name but you jerk your head at Sam and keep drawing it away. Not leaving Sam and Dean, but putting its back to them. It’s focused on you and you all know where it is. Blasting it gives it a chance to drop on Sam and you hope Dean gets what you’re doing.

He does, by the expression on his face, but he is _not_ happy about it and you know you’re going to hear about it later.

At least, you hope you will, because the ghost surges forward and lifts you into the air by your throat. Dean’s had enough but as he raises his gun he’s tossed like a ragdoll by some otherworldly force and his gun is knocked feet away. Sam lifts his head but before he can get any bright ideas you scream, “Burn it!” with all the words you have left in you. After that you’re seeing lightspots and you can barely kick your feet.

“I never cared about you. I only help you because you’re with Sam and Dean. I could never love you. Why should I? Look at how pathetic you are,” not-Cas says, too clearly for how everything else– Sam, Dean, something else– seems to be underwater. Your body goes lax. But then there’s a scream that echoes in your head and you fall– you fall into someone’s arms. Fingers press against your forehead and your throat is no longer sore, and you feel almost normal. But you open your eyes and shriek when you see Cas’s face staring down at you. You fight to get away but he grips you tight and says your name with too much feeling to be the ghost. “It’s me, it’s truly me,” he reassures you. He’s warm and there’s life and light in his eyes that was missing from the copy.

You’re so tired and sad and relieved all at once that you hug him tight and bury your face into his coat, breathing him in. “Cas, Cas, Cas,” you whisper and hope he doesn’t hear. _I could never love you_ , bounds in your head and doesn’t leave, even though he holds you close and doesn’t let go.


	19. Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is kind of a dick sometimes. You don’t mind.

 

You sip your drink and sigh in contentment. You can _feel_ the weird look Sam is giving you, but you can’t look away from the scene in front of you. Dean is Dean but Cas…there’s still something so attractive about him, even when he’s surly. Maybe it’s because he’s surly, and he tries to bear down on Dean like he’s dangerous, but you know it’s all bluster. Though Dean stands up to him admirably, Cas’s low voice holds an edge to it that sends a chill through you.

“Stop looking at him like that; I half expect you to jump him,” Sam whispers in your ear. You absently smack his face.

“Shut it, Winchester the younger,” you reply. You’re not really concerned that they can hear you. When Dean and Cas get into their tiffs it’s like the rest of the world is just an extra annoyance to them. You and Sam have carried on full-voiced conversations about anything else during some of these. This one though…

Sam fake gags. You toss some popcorn at him. “Seriously. You and Dean say it’s soooo obvious? Fine. Then I get to ogle. I never get to ogle.”

“You do it all the time. Cas is the only one who doesn’t notice,” Sam says.

“Or he does notice and doesn’t say anything because he has nothing to say about it,” you counter. _“I could never care about you,”_ circles in your head. It was one thing when you were saying it. Now that you can hear it in Cas’s voice as a memory, rather than some imagined fear? It’s playing havoc with your nerves.

“Bull,” Sam snorts and goes to say something else, but Cas’s outburst interrupts him.

“This is foolish!”

“Look, this is _too_ weird,” Dean says firmly. Cas crosses his arms and glares at Dean, but his anger has a sullen, petulant tone to it that makes him look, in your opinion, a little too cute. For a switch, Dean, while still angry, is now mostly keeping his cool and seems like the parent reasoning with a child stomping his foot. “The ghost has a pattern and suddenly goes berserk and starts racking up a body count _that close_ to where we killed a fucking manticore, which was also close to where a _basilisk_ was hunted down? There’s no way this is all coincidence.”

“I agree with that last statement, and it is also why you need to be more careful about this,” Cas says. “Even setting aside the ghost, someone who can summon or gather those creatures either has a lot of power or a lot of influence. Rushing ahead should be the last thing you do.”

“We’re not rushing ahead. We’re getting more information,” Dean says and looks at Sam for backup. Sam, infinitely less amused now that he’s been dragged into this, winces when Cas looks at him but holds his hands out like he’s trying to placate a lion.

“Honestly Cas, we’re just trying to figure out where they came from.” Sam motions to the candles and spell ingredients set on the table.

“And what will you do after that?”

“We’ll investigate.”

“That sounds like another way to say you’ll run right into the territory of someone who almost killed you,” Cas growls but he looks at you when he says that and you cringe. “And what is your opinion in all of this?”

“Um…” This so isn’t fair. “I don’t know what the right action is but we can’t just ignore what’s happening. Do you have any other ideas?”

Cas seems to consider this. “Narrow down the field and _I_ will investigate.”

“We don’t need you hunting for us,” Dean says.

“But maybe he can help us,” Sam says quickly. “We’ll find out where these things are congregating. Cas can then scope out the area. _Then_ we’ll make a plan for the actual hunt depending on what he finds. How’s that?”

Dean rolls his eyes and grunts, “Whatever,” and Cas rolls his eyes _so_ dramatically and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Fine. Call for me when you’ve completed the spell,” Cas says and flies out so aggressively that half the candles are blown out by his exit. Despite the fact that it was a pain in the ass to light all of them, you stifle a giggle.

“Dick!” Dean gripes and Sam shakes his head as they go to re-light them.

“Sometimes,” you say, perhaps a little too cheerfully if the expressions on the Winchesters’ faces are anything to go by, but you pick up a lighter and get to work. Sometimes Cas is, indeed, a little too pissy for his own good. But you can’t really help it– you like that too.


	20. Costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You attend a seemingly innocuous party and end up having to make a deal with Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Crowley crushing on Reader. Use of a princess nickname but in a way that doesn’t necessarily denote the reader’s gender.

 

“Phantom of the Opera” has lied to you.

So has “Labyrinth.”

Masquerade parties are _dull as shit_.

Case in point: you have found, through the under-appreciated _art_ ( _Dean_ ) of eavesdropping that this party is at least a third, if not half, attended by supernatural creatures, while the remainder are trust-fund (figurative) zombies. This should be an interesting fact, maybe a little anxiety-making, but you’re so fucking bored that you almost wish a vamp would jump you. At least then you’d get to do something other than itch under your mask, but no.

Your eyes skim over the crowd. You see Dean charming the hell out of two young socialites and the top of Sam’s head, but not who he’s talking to. You sit at a tall table and absently swirl the wine in your glass. It’s probably fine but at a party with such mixed clientele, you don’t tend to take chances with food and drink. Especially considering the people currently throwing the party…

 

_“It is covered by angel warding,” Cas said._

_“But this guy’s house is where those things came from?” Dean said, looking at the map._

_“Did you not hear what I just said?” Cas was edging toward anger._

_“That just means we need to check it out even more,” Dean said. “Rich asshole collecting monsters? Why?”_

_“Private zoo, apparently,” Sam cut in, tapping away on his laptop. “Charlie hacked into his emails, financial records…she’s still sifting through the info but get this: Hugo and Alex Ellison are brothers, inherited a fortune and are basically socialites. They throw parties and show off their money.”_

 

Hugo and Alex haven’t been apart all night. They have a little posse up on a dais and they seem too concerned with their immediate little world to care about the party at large. Unfortunately, security is fairly tight so you also can’t get close enough to see what kind of monsters they are, or if they’re witches. Maybe demons. Because rando rich dudes don’t know the kind of things that make Cas sulk and pace outside.

You puff out some air. Can’t get to the high and mighty revelers, can’t go check a few of the ‘pets’ they brought along, can’t shoot silver into that handsy fucking dog that walked by you earlier. This is turning out to be a total waste of time and you’re about ready to throw in the towel and make a break for it.

You rest your elbow on the table and your head in the palm of your hand. You wish Cas could be here. Not really for protection, because you can handle yourself, but you think he would have looked good. Uncomfortable, but _good_. A nice fitted suit and bright blue eyes piercing out of an old, ornate mask. You smile at the thought.

Though, hell, even if you couldn’t have Cas looking all dapper, Gabriel would have been nice to have around. Say what you will about him, the guy knows how to make his own fun. Instead, you’re sitting at a table with a very drunk, pretty young redhead who looks like she’s either going to make an important existential observation or get sick all over the table. Both seem pretty repugnant to you right now but at least if she throws up you don’t have to fake politeness to excuse yourself.

“Hey…heeeeeey.” She smiles like she’s only just realized you’re there and you fake a smile back. “Have you seen the ami-al- the an-i-m-a-l-sss?” She giggles. “They’re _wild_.”

“I’ve heard about them.” Apparently some people –mostly drunk humans, and pretty boys and girls at that– have been chosen to go see the small selection the Ellisons have brought to the event. You’ve been hearing all sorts of animal parts and have sort of tuned it out.

“I only got to see, like, two before I got tossed out.” She pouts and holds up her silver bracelet. “I accidently…well, “accidentally” fell into that cutie Hugo. He _fuh-reaked_. How was _I_ supposed to know he’s deathly allergic to silver?!”

Hugo is possibly a shifter. That’s interesting, and more than you’ve gotten otherwise. Huh. Satisfied with that tidbit, you smile politely and eye the crowd again for Sam and Dean. This might be enough to get you out of here.

“Hey.” She leans in closer and licks her lips as she eyes you. “What’d’you say we go slip off these masks…and maybe a little bit more?”

“No thank you,” you say and slide out of your seat. The woman, though, has a strong grip on your hand. Too strong, in your opinion, for someone who looks drunk enough to be a floppy noodle. She keeps her hand on yours and comes around the table to sidle up next to you. “Come on, Hunter,” she whispers and flashes her fangs at you. “We could have some fun, and you smell _delectable_ …”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t lose your head,” you say with the sweetest smile you can muster. She snarls. “No sense of humor. Sorry, but that’s why it won't work out between us.”

She grips your hand tighter. “Eating the human guests is _strongly discouraged_ but I bet I wouldn’t be–”

“Oh, _hello_ Love.”

_Can this night get worse?_ you ask yourself and for once you aren’t worried about jinxing yourself. The Monster Zoo somehow getting loose and running amok would actually improve things, in your opinion. You look at Crowley and his bodyguards but your exasperation only serves to make him smile wider. Of course.

“I’m sorry, _love_ , but we’re busy,” Vampirella says.

“I wasn’t talking to you, _leech_ ,” Crowley says and looks at her with derision. He flits his hand. “Shoo.”

She growls, but leaves in a huff. You rub your now-sore hand but Crowley quickly steals it and purrs your name before pressing a kiss to it. “I always knew you’d clean up nicely.”

You always tried to be cordial in your dealings with the King of Hell but right now his flirtations are even more annoying than usual. “Crowley.”

“And what is my favorite little hunter doing in a place like this?” Crowley says and takes a seat next to you. You remain standing and keep skimming for Sam or Dean because fuck where are they?

“Just enjoying the atmosphere. And you?”

“Oh, accepting an invitation from a friend. Mingling. Networking. Saving a hunter from a vampire.” He smiles smugly at you. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You narrow your eyes. “I can _handle_ a–”

“My love I know you can, however, half the crowd is some form of “monster” themselves and the other half hasn’t even had a papercut.” Crowley sips his wine. “All of them are decidedly not on your side should you come back covered in blood.”

You roll your eyes. He has a point. Damn it. “Then thanks. For saving my outfit,” you grumble.

“You’re welcome. You do look quite fetching in it. Now, since you and I are both here and bored out of our respective skulls, fancy a dance?”

“Actually, I was just about to leave. Nice seeing you,” you say as you finally see Sam and Dean. Just as you take a step though you see that they’re being cornered by intimidating guys in suits. Who may or may not be human. Though…why go human when you can get stupidly strong demons or vampires to do the job for you? Your stomach drops.

“Moose and Squirrel have done it again, have they?” Crowley puts an arm around your waist. “You know…I could get them out of here.”

You glance at him. “In exchange for?”

“Oh, I love it when you get right to business,” Crowley says and overacts a shudder. Ew. “I’ll get your boys and you out. In exchange, you will be my date for the remainder of this dreadful party.”

The suited men (or somethings) are trying to drag Sam and Dean away. “For the rest of the party I will be your date. In return Sam, Dean, and I leave here, alive, our souls intact.”

“Let’s seal the deal then,” Crowley says. You try not to think too hard about it when you…ergh…kiss Crowley. It’s just business, it’s just business and _God damn it Dean and Sam Winchester you two fucking owe me_.

You pull away (and look away from Crowley’s self-satisfaction) and in the next second you’re in between the guards and Sam and Dean.

“Crowley?” Dean says and Sam hisses your name. You sigh and turn to them while Crowley schmoozes with the guards.

“I have to stay for a little while, but you two are leaving,” you whisper.

“The hell you are!” Dean says.

“Well, sort of. It is part of the deal she made to clean up your little mess,” Crowley says and wraps his arm back around you. “You can go hang out at Denny’s with your giraffe as far as I care. Your partner will be out at midnight.”

“Not a fucking ch–” Dean disappears mid-rant, as does Sam, and you jolt. The teleportation thing is something you never get used to.

“They’re with dear Castiel. Shall we have that dance now?” Crowley says and lifts a hand. You brace yourself for the next few hours, and accept it.

The party picks up a little bit and Crowley seems to enjoy having you on his arm, which is a weird thing that you can’t quite figure out, but you go along with it because that’s the deal. He also doesn’t seem to mind you’re otherwise crappy company, and you try to tune out when he talks about souls and deals, though he doesn’t make any while you’re around. You’re grateful for that, because you don’t want to make him get pissed and void the deal.

You’re feeling fairly tired by the last dance but all you can think of is getting home and crawling into bed. And of Cas. Crowley leads the dancing and you wonder what it would be like to dance with Cas. You’d have to figure out how to teach him but this seems easy enough. Cas in his suit and mask, holding your hand. Cas moving with you, moving closer _to_ you…

“Such a shame, Cinderella; your carriage is about to be a pumpkin,” Crowley murmurs and kisses you, _deeply_. There’s no deal, no joke, and just as suddenly as it starts it stops and you find yourself outside on the street in a lightly drizzling rain, your flimsy coat over your shoulders, wondering what the _fuck_ just happened.


	21. Jekyll/Hyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is a real dick sometimes. You definitely mind.

 

You’re walking as fast as you can, trying to put some distance between you and the party as you protect your phone from the slight rain while simultaneously calling Dean. There’s no immediate threat but Crowley had dragged you over to the Ellisons at one point and you really don’t like how Alex had looked at you. You barely start to call Dean when you hear the familiar rumble of his precious Baby coming up from down the street. You turn and jog to meet him, hopping out of the way as he nearly runs into you. He barely gets a chance to stop when you throw yourself into the backseat. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” you say and Dean slams his foot on the gas.

Dean and Sam are quiet but you don’t notice it at first, pulling off your jacket and shoes and trying to get as comfortable as you can. It’s only when you’re on your way out of town that Dean speaks. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You raise an eyebrow. “That you and Sam were pretty outnumbered and I had a non-lethal and non-soul-damning way to fix it. You’re welcome.”

“We had it handled,” Dean snaps.

You roll your eyes. Worst. Night. Ev– okay, so maybe not considering the stiff competition, but it is definitely up there. “No. You didn’t.”

Sam says your name insistently, and clears his throat. “Cas is…pretty upset.”

You groan and throw your head back. “What did you guys tell him?”

Dean snorts and throws a glare in your direction. “That you made a deal with _Crowley_ –”

“–to get us out–” Sam interjects.

“–and that you were staying longer. He wasn’t upset, he was _pissed_.”

“I’ll talk to him. Cas’ll underst–whoa!” you exclaim as, suddenly, the scenery outside changes and Dean swerves and screeches to a stop. You all sit in silence for a moment, catching your breath, and Sam whips his head around.

“Are we…back in Kansas?” he asks slowly.

“Yes.”

You jump at the voice that is suddenly right next to you, but Cas just observes you coolly. He stares for a while, like he’s checking you over, but he sits very stiffly in his seat. He’s mad. Not as mad as Dean was making him out to be, (which is a relief), but mad nonetheless.

“I thought you said you’d wait at the bunker,” Dean growls and turns to look at Cas.

“I changed my mind. You would have taken too long.” Cas glances at you from the corner of his eye. “I will see you in the library.” Just as suddenly as he appeared, he’s gone.

Dean shakes his head and turns around, pulling you all back onto the road and making it back to the bunker in minutes. You grab your stuff from the backseat and your bag from the trunk and hurry down to the library. Once you get this sorted out you’re going to take a shower and crash into your bed so hard.

Dean and Sam lumber in after you and follow you as you go to sit across from Cas. He’s staring at you and it’s starting to feel unnerving. Slowly, though, he starts to relax and he leans forward. “Are you all right?”

_Finally_ , you think and start to breathe a little easier. Sam and Dean still seem tense for some reason but you ignore them. “I’m fine. Let me explain what happened…”

You do, but as you speak Cas doesn’t lighten up anymore than the very little bit he had at the beginning. You shrug it off– it’s been a long night for everyone and it can’t have been easy having to wait outside. That’s why you went in the first place. Hunting with Sam and Dean may be harrowing at times but it’s infinitely better than twiddling your thumbs and worrying about your friends. You end the story with Dean picking you up.

“That was still stupid,” Dean says.

Cas grunts like he agrees, but he’s otherwise unreadable right now. It’s…worrisome, but you look at Dean. “I didn’t sell my soul. I was on his arm for a few hours. I don’t know why he picked me but you’re safe, I’m safe, so what’s the big deal?”

“It could have been a big deal. It could have been a damn big deal,” Dean persists.

“Like you’ve never worked with Crowley before?” You groan. “Why are you being so stubborn on this?”

“Because you are acting like it is fine you made a deal with a demon. With Crowley,” Cas grits out from clenched teeth. Your eyes widen. He glares at you and he’s even angrier than before.

“To get Sam and Dean and I– to make sure _all of us_ were safe.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“Yes.”

“For the deal she must have had to,” Sam says. You’re about to agree but you suddenly remember that kiss at the end, and your face twists in remembrance. Cas straightens in his seat.

“You kissed him a _second_ time?” Cas asks.

“I didn’t but he did kiss me,” you admit.

“I see.” Cas sits back and stares at you, utterly emotionless. “So you made the deal because you did not mind whoring yourself out to Crowley.”

Your jaw drops. “C-Cas!” Sam chokes out and even Dean looks like he might take your side now. You ignore both of them and remind yourself that strangling an angel won’t do anything because they don’t need to breathe.

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?”

“You don’t seem too bothered by the fact that he _kissed_ you!”

“Of course it bothered me! It was creepy and crossed a line but it happened and there’s nothing I can do about it!” What the fresh hell was going on with your angel? You’re tempted to try and call Gabriel to see what kind of shitty thing was going on in Heaven because this reaction is _way_ out of bounds.

“You seem oddly _fine_ with it.”

“Okay, seriously, it was a shitty situation and I took the lesser of two evils. Why do I have to keep explaining myself to you?!”

Cas stands up and his chair goes _flying_ backwards. You and Sam and Dean jolt at the fearsome crash and you can only imagine Cas’s wings are high and open. “Of course,” he says, seething. “You are not obligated to explain anything to me.”

The bastard _leaves_. He disappears, just like that, and you’re left in anger and sadness and still complete confusion. The silence weighs on you and you want to scream but you know if you pray Cas will only ignore you. And you know what? He’s not the only one who can be vindictive.

You start to go but when Sam calls your name you look at him with all the intensity Cas has left in you and he flinches. You leave when he doesn’t say anything else and go right to your room, throwing yourself onto your bed.

All your plans to relax end up shot. You can’t help but think of Cas every few seconds, and every time you think of him you just end up pissed off all over again. You shower at one point when you know Sam and Dean are sleeping but you can’t manage to get even a nap, so you decide to be productive, and pull out your laptop and start searching for a case. It’s several hours into your self-imposed isolation when Sam knocks on your door.

“Hey…you’ve been in there all day. Are you all right?” he says.

“Fine.” You go over to your closet and start packing a duffle.

Sam opens the door and says, with some amusement, “Careful or people might start to think you and Dean are twin– wait, what are you doing? You’re leaving?”

“Found a possible salt-and-burn in Colorado. Shouldn’t be gone more than a week,” you say, still packing up.

“Oh. Well okay, I’ll just go tell Dean and–”

You toss the bag on your shoulder and face him. “It’s super basic. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Sam frowns. “Are you sure you should be on your own right now?”

“I think it’s exactly what I need.” You look around to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything. “I’ll see you later, Sam. Tell Dean I’ll be back soon.”

He looks like he wants to protest, but he doesn’t. Smart. “Well, I guess…good luck, and check in when you get there.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say as you leave. _Eventually_.


	22. Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go on a hunt to clear your head. Cas waits at the bunker with an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, there's a little change in format here. I’m going to be splitting these upcoming chapters into two sections for the next few parts. Why? You’ll see >.>

 

You stop for a moment to catch your breath and wipe the sweat off your brow. Digging up a grave is a lot easier when you have two other people to help (or do all the work, you’re not picky) but right now you don’t mind. It’s actually quite therapeutic, really. This is also one situation where getting mad at Cas is helping you be productive. Every time you think about how pissy he had been with you it gets easier to dig.

You stop for a moment as you wonder _why_ he had been so angry. And mean. It really baffles you. Dean made a deal with a demon that basically caused the apocalypse. Sam tried to make deals to get him back. Cas made a deal with Crowley himself and you don’t like to look back on that time either. Really, it’s almost painfully absurd how benign your agreement with Crowley was by comparison.

Thunder rumbles in the distance and you go back to digging. You wonder about what prompted Crowley to make the deal in the first place. Did he know it would make Cas angry? Was there a thing in their past that you didn’t know about but got dragged into? You’re pretty mad at Crowley too, but he wasn’t the one accusing you of enjoying a kiss you didn’t consent to. But he was the one who actually– ugh; there’s nothing to excuse him either.

_Stupid demons. Stupid angels._ You hit the old wooden coffin with a crash of your shovel and start bashing it in. Once the body is uncovered you scamper out of the grave and get your supplies together. Within a few minutes the body is up in flames and you heave a sigh as some of the anger leaves you. Cas is, at the base of it, a good person. Angel. Celestial being. Whatever. He’ll feel bad for what he said and apologize, and maybe you’ll figure out why he was so upset in the first place. Hopefully.

 

~At the Bunker~

 

Dean is in the kitchen, minding his business and making a sandwich when suddenly from behind him comes: “Hello Dean.”

Dean lets out a startled yell and whirls around, his mayo-covered knife clattering and splattering on the floor as he tries to hold his heart in his chest. “God _dammit_ Cas! That’s it!” Dean jabs his finger in Castiel’s face. “For Christmas I’m getting you a God-damned collar with a bell on it and for my Christmas present you are actually going to _wear_ it.”

Castiel stares at Dean, only frowning slightly. “The entire reason I greet you is so that you do not get startled. Wouldn’t a bell suddenly tingling behind you _also_ startle you?”

Dean grumbles under his breath but turns to the counter only to jump again when he sees Gabriel. “What’s this about you wanting to collar my baby bro, Dean?” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. “Pretty kinky, but I feel like you should consult a certain someone first.”

“Gabriel?” Sam asks as he enters the room, book in hand. He shuts it and takes in the scene before him.

“I told you a million times Sammy. Freaking angel locks. Make it work, because we _need_ them,” Dean says and takes his sandwich over the table.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks with a roll of his eyes.

“I came to help smooth things over with the most attractive hunter of this motley crew. Yea high, smells nice, doesn’t wear a dirty old robe or think books about the metaphysical make for entertaining reading?” Gabriel says and Castiel looks around.

Dean and Sam share a glance and then both look at Castiel– who quickly looks away. Dean grunts, “Not here,” and takes a defiant bite of his sandwich.

Gabriel raises a brow at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “Where, then?”

Sam shakes his head. “On a hunt and hopefully back by the end of the week.”

Castiel steps forward. “Please, I know I was…unfair, and too angry. I need to apologize.”

Sam doesn’t budge. “No.”

“Come on guys, it can’t be that bad,” Gabriel says lightly.

“Hm.” Dean looks between the two angels. “Where does accusing someone of whoring themself out to a demon rate on ‘not so bad’?”

Gabriel’s head jerks back in shock and he looks at Castiel. “You _didn’t_.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry,” Castiel says. “This is why I _need_ to apologize as soon as possible.”

“Cas, buddy, I was pissed too, I get angry. But you crossed a line.” Dean makes eye contact with the angel. “They’ll come around, but you both need some time to cool off.”

Castiel sighs and thinks of the shock on your face when he said– He flinches. “Then I will wait here.”

“Cassie?” Gabriel asks.

“Of course I will come if you need me, Gabriel,” Castiel says. “But if…” He says your name forlornly and sighs. “If they do pray to me, if they want to talk sooner, I want to be as available as I can be. I owe them that.”

Dean shrugs. “Knock yourself out,” he says and truly digs in to his sandwich. Sam gives Castiel a small smile and leaves.

Gabriel pats his little brother on the shoulder. “Good luck.” And with that, the archangel is gone.

Castiel is quiet as he plods down the hallway to his room. He goes to sit on the bed, and he absently brings his favorite blanket over his knee. The blanket he found over himself that one morning, the one Sam and Dean swear to Heaven and Hell they did not touch. The one he has put his hopes on meaning his affection for you might be returned.

He breathes in your fading scent and sighs as he holds the end of it in his hands. He will fix this. He will wait as long as you need him to.


	23. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein everything goes wrong.

 

You’re still throwing dirt on to smother the fire when the first few raindrops hit. They’re followed by a large grouping, and before you know it, it’s utterly pouring and thunder is crashing more frequently because Mother Nature is a big damn drama queen. You curse to yourself as you keep filling in the grave, and once it’s covered you decide to let the rain do the rest. You grab your lamp, and hold your coat over your shoulders and head as a makeshift canopy, trying to use the light to get back to the car.

It’s kind of pitiful, really, and the lightning actually does more for your visibility than your little lantern can in weather like this, with the rain pouring down and wind starting to pick up. Water hits your face like little pinpricks and you wince against it. Great idea– being cold, wet, and sinking into mud while also being utterly blind. The ghost is probably gone but it wasn’t making that much trouble to begin with. You just needed to get away from anywhere Cas might be able to find you, which means that you don’t get to have your nice warm bed and side drawer full of snacks. What were you thinking? Cas is still probably knocking around Heaven and not thinking about you. Maybe complaining to his angel friends about dumb humans letting dumb demons hit on them. Maybe making other types of conversations with prettier, smarter angels who he can…

You hit your temple and keep trudging along. Cas might be an angel but he has the same problem Gabe has– they’re too close to human to be fully angel, and too angelic to be fully human. You, Sam, and Dean are some of the very, very rare few who even know what that means, who can even try to relate. Cas wouldn’t…

Lightning strikes nearby, making you jump. However it does something else– it illuminates a humanoid form standing in between you and your destination.

You suddenly have something more important to worry about.

 

 

_~Meanwhile…~_

 

“Damn it, Cas, no!”

Castiel huffs and crosses his arms. He had tried to be patient. Truly. He had sat. He had paced. He had gone for a walk, a flight; he had even tried to sit in your spot outside and stare at the stars. But the fight still itches under his skin, right down to his very essential being, and so here he is, imploring Sam and Dean to give him your location.

“I will leave if asked,” Castiel says. “But what if they want to speak with me?”

“Then they’ll pick up the phone.” Dean aggressively flips a page in his magazine. “Did you try calling?”

Castiel frowns and mutters under his breath, “…didn’t pick up.”

“Hm. Imagine that.”

“Guys, stop,” Sam says and looks from one to the other. “Cas, they’re on a hunt. Just give it a few days.”

Castiel grumbles something unintelligible. Sam stares at him for a few moments, considering, and then suddenly shuts his book. “You know what, Cas? I could use your help with some old scrolls I found. Can you go ahead to the war room? I’ll be right there after I grab something.”

Castiel pushes himself up from the chair and storms off with all the grace of an eons-old child. Dean rolls his eyes, but his attention is grabbed by Sam suddenly leaning way too close into his personal space.

Sam slides Dean’s phone closer to him. “Call them. See if they’re open to talking to Cas.”

“What?” Dean says. “I thought you were on–”

“Dean, just ask, nothing else,” Sam says and glances at the door. “This is Cas, who can get utterly single-minded on a thing and who doesn’t need to sleep. He’s not going to let up on us.”

Dean considers this for a moment. “You have a point,” he says and tosses down his magazine in favor of picking up his phone. Sam pats his back and leaves, rushing to get to Cas.

As Dean goes into his phone he sees one missed call and a voicemail to accompany. “Speak of the hunter,” he mutters and hits play. As he listens he goes rod straight and plays it again. And again. He throws the phone to the table and runs out of the room, yelling for Sam and Cas as the message plays one more time, your voice barely audible within the sounds of a storm and your own desperate gasping for air.

_“Dean, it’s me. I might not make it so– so know that Alex Ellison is a werewolf and I’m pretty sure he’s going to–”_


	24. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You send out a prayer and Cas arrives to start the search.

 

The rain won't let up and it’s almost enough to make you scream in frustration as you run with the werewolf almost nipping at your heels.

Your blade had been knocked out of your hands almost immediately and, of course, you hadn’t been expecting a fucking _werewolf_. However if you survive this then you’re not going to be more than three feet from your arsenal at all times. You’re going to look like a God damn doomsday-prepper and it’s going to be _fabulous_ because, at the very least, you’ll be able to fill a werewolf so full of silver it’ll puke up half a jewelry store.

You trip on a root and catch yourself on a branch and use it to propel yourself forward just as something swipes at your shirt and tears it. You put as much as you possibly can into your running and every part of your body burns. You hope Dean got your message and can at least wrap up the pieces of your body for a proper funeral; you figure you deserve at least that m–

The werewolf slams into you from behind and you go rolling across mud and rain-slick vegetation. You try to protect your now-tender side as roots press against you, but that takes your attention from the immediate threat. You’re on your back, dazed, but you try to snap to when Alex, snarling and so animalistic you almost expect him to just tear into your chest with his teeth, grabs your head and starts slamming it against the ground.

 _I should have told…Cas_ you think blearily as your vision begins to swim. _Wait; Cas! Cas! CAS!_ you pray desperately before everything goes dark.

 

 

~Meanwhile~

 

Castiel arrives in a graveyard with the sound of Sam’s yelling just an echo in his ears. He looks around, uncaring of the rain pelting him and thunder crashing. It’s all an annoyance, a distraction he can’t afford. He leans down and pushes his hand into mud, pulling out your phone and staring at it for a moment as he does a mental sweep of the area for anything distinguishing. But nature and life fill the surrounding miles and his face sets firm in his frustration.

He starts walking, deciding anything is better than waiting uselessly. He stomps through muck and barely blinks at a blinding flash of light. He has seen far more, far worse, but the thought of you being hunted in this storm is worse than anything his father ever wrought. The warding on your ribs that once seemed like a blessing is now an agonizing mistake.

Then, suddenly, he hears you scream his name. The prayer is a mockery of what it should be, what it has been in the past. He has heard his name in every possible iteration from you; joyous, content, elated, excited, slightly frightened, frightened for Dean or Sam, frightened even for _him_ and praying for him to return safely, annoyed, irritated… Even the times you are angry with him are pleasant by comparison and he wishes he could go back to that day and speak differently, tell you why the thought of Crowley with his hands on you made him blind with rage and hope that maybe, maybe you can understand even if you can’t completely relate. He wants to go back, he wants your understanding, your sympathy, your forgiveness; he wants more than he ever has before.

He wants and can do nothing about it. All he can do is keep searching.


	25. Carve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re caught by the werewolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Accurate title is accurate. Major warning for cutting– not the self-injury sort, the torture-y sort, but there are descriptors for blood and pain nonetheless so please heed this warning if that is triggering. Angsty (as you might expect).

 

You wake up slowly, trying to drag yourself back into consciousness as much as you can. Your head aches with a dull, constant throb and your shoulders just ache, period. You let your head fall back to look up at the chains around your wrists pulling your arms straight up. You look down to see your ankles are shackled together and you can feel the floor only through the balls of your feet, you’re stretched out so much.

You look up and around and sigh. It’s your typical old wooden shack with rusted tools and unpleasant sharp-looking things hanging up and blood stains on the ground and you kind of wish he had just killed you outright because this is just sad. Like, actually kind of embarrassing that after all the things you’ve hunted, a werewolf with a “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” fetish might be the thing that does you in.

“You’re awake. Good,” Alex says from behind you. He comes around with a rolling tray covered in clean knives and medical equipment. He sits on a stool and starts sharpening a very pretty, very wicked looking curved knife.

It’s all so stereotypically ‘villain’ that you roll your eyes– and suddenly notice the very faint outlines of wards stained into the wooden walls. You take note that they’re all over the place and, considering your luck, they’re probably there to keep angels out. Fantastic. Then again, you don’t know if Cas is even listening to you, and Gabriel is almost always too busy to answer many prayers these days. Either you live long enough for Sam and Dean to track you down and persuade an angel into a (most likely reluctant) rescue, or you…don’t. “What’s a guy like you doing in a random abandoned shack like this?”

“What makes you think it’s random?” he asks, looking at you even as he keeps sharpening. He nods at a dirty spot on a wall. “I have many fond memories here.”

You think back to the party where he looked at you, so inexplicably angry, the manticore, the very odd ghost that had prompted you looking into where the manticore had come from…

_“I don’t like this at all,”_ Cas had said when Dean had first explained the plan to him of tracking down the origins of the manticore. You sometimes hate it when Cas is right. You hate it _so much_ right now because if the Winchesters do cajole him into helping find you then you’re never gonna hear the end of it. Even if you die Cas will probably track you down in Heaven and fill the place with so many “I told you so”s that you’ll probably beg to go to Hell.

You stop to consider Cas lording over you…and you don’t mind it as much as you try to tell yourself. You puff out a breath of air. You’d like to hear him say anything to you right now, as long as it’s even a little kinder than that night. You squirm and try to get away from that memory. “Is there any particular reason you’re stirring up spirits?” you ask. “Or is it just a hobby?”

Alex doesn’t answer. He stands up with a knife in hand. You try to move back but the ankle chains are looped to a bracket in the floor. He grabs your shirt and pulls, but instead of sticking you with the blade he starts cutting away your clothes. You grimace but you can’t curl up, can’t pull away, and it is only a mild comfort that his touch is methodical and distant. “Relax,” he says, leaving your underwear intact. “I just want some more canvas.” He steps back and observes with a calculating eye. “Besides, I’ve seen all this and more over the years.”

“Wow. That’s nice. Incredibly comforting and helpful,” you say, now even crankier that cold air is blowing on your damp skin and making you shiver.

“You have a smart mouth.” Alex leans back and propels his first across your face, several times. Your head is screaming in pain and there’s…ugh. You spit out a tooth but can’t project enough force behind it. It falls to the floor, pattering lightly when it hits, and blood dribbles and drips down your chin with the saliva that didn’t quite make it.

You wait to build up enough strength to spit more blood to the side and then look right at Alex. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

He snorts and goes back to his table, considering. “You’re not as afraid as you should be.”

“You're not the first monster I’ve met that likes to play with his food.”

“Ah, ‘monster’. This is why no one likes hunters,” he says and picks his knife back up. He cuts a small but deep, aching line just under your collar bone. You grit your teeth at the stinging pain and he does a light little flourish at the end that makes you hiss.

“You and those other two societal rejects killed my pet,” he says, continuing his work. You try to brace yourself against the pain and feeling of streams of blood dripping down your body.

“Your ‘pet’ was eating people,” you manage to get out before a long, trailing cut in your thigh makes you suck in a deep breath.

“No one important.” He circles around you. You swallow hard and try to watch him. You don’t _want_ to, but it’s worse when you can’t see.

“It’s hard to believe you get offended by the term ‘monster’. You certainly seem to embr–” You gasp at the quick slash in your throbbing and bruised side and finish, through gritted teeth, with, “–embrace it.”

“All things are subjective. You kill a lot of my kind.”

As he keeps on, you hold in every noise you can and think about anything else. As he’s carving something into your upper back, you pray. _Cas. I don’t know if you care now, but for Sam and Dean’s sake, Alex Ellison, in addition to being a rich asshole, has a hobby of cutting people up. Enough so that he has his own little torture shack in the woods in Colorado. You need to protect them._

“How do a shapeshifter and werewolf become brothers anyway?” you ask. You have to blink your eyes back into focus

“My previous brother was a sniveling, conniving little bastard,” Alex mutters and drags the knife down your underarm. You bite down on a scream. “When he found out I had changed, he hired a hunter to kill me. Hugo saved me, earned that name better than my previous ‘blood’ brother ever could. He is my _true_ brother.”

“Gross,” you mutter. _I hope you also get them to deal with that shapeshifter. He’s an opportunistic douche bag._ “And you just happened to become besties with Crowley over the years?”

“My parents were a problem that I solved.”

_Wow. This guy is the worst. Seriously, first-world monster problems to end all first-world monster problems._ You’re praying to Cas about nothing now but it feels good, actually. Like things could even be normal between you someday. Someday that…might not happen. “So you traded your parents for ten years of partying when you probably would have had the money eventually anyway?”

“I’ll find a way out of the deal,” Alex says so confidently that you actually laugh. He slashes you several times, making you yelp and wow, everything is getting fuzzy.

_I might die of boredom before he does anything that actually kills me_ , you tell Cas. _Guy is a regular chatterbox. I guess I am too, now. You’re probably getting real sick of me, huh? Too bad._

Alex leans in from behind. You cry out as his fingers dig into a slice in your stomach. “Are you warmed up yet? Now we can really start.”

 

 

~Meanwhile~

 

Your prayers come through and Castiel devours every piece of each one. He is still in the right area and that is a comfort. The beast’s name is now seared into his head. Wards or not, Castiel will draw out his end. He will make it hurt. But Castiel also finds hope in your light tone and complaints. You are strong; so strong and he will find you. He has to. He wishes he could pray to you to tell you to keep speaking to him, that he would listen to you for an eternity if you would let him.

He stops in the middle of the soaked forest and despairs at the surrounding quiet. For the first time in a very long time, _he_ prays. He does not expect to be heard, but hopes nonetheless.


	26. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to find you, Cas brings in help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter and the next are companion pieces, so this is a little short and Castiel-focused.

 

Castiel listens closely to your prayers. So closely that he hears the pain that starts to seep into them, the thoughts that are broken abruptly and never continued. Then he hears it– you’re in the middle of making a joke about full moons that you’ve already tried to make twice before when you _scream_. It’s not equitable to one of physical sound. It’s worse. It’s a soul-deep agony that makes Castiel stumble; an outpouring of built up fear and pain and he forces himself to feel it.

As you begin to babble again, starting off more desperately than before though you try to act as though nothing has changed, Castiel pulls out his phone and forces himself to scroll through his contacts with shaking hands. He puts the phone to his ear and steadies himself. As soon as Sam picks up Castiel practically growls, “Are you on the road yet?”

“Yes; where the hell ar–”

“Give me your location, _now_.”

Within minutes the Impala is parked next to your car and Castiel is exiting the backseat, paying no attention to Dean yelling at him. The rain has stopped completely but there is a cold wind blowing steadily. As Sam and Dean gather their weapons, Castiel continues to listen for your sporadic prayers.

The trunk slams. “Cas!” Dean calls and the angel appears between the two brothers, in front of a map splayed out on the back of the car. “Do you know where they are?”

“No,” Castiel admits. “It is possible, with his knowledge of wards and angels, that the creature is blocking me from finding a trace of them.”

“We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way then,” Dean says and puts his finger on the map. “We’ll fan out from here, Sam going this way, Cas going towards there, and I’ll go down this line. He might be a werewolf but I doubt he dragged them too far; sick bastard probably couldn’t wait to get to work.”

“From here.” Castiel points at a location some distance away from Dean’s proposed starting point. “This is where I found their phone.”

“Then let’s get moving.” Dean pulls out his gun, folds up the map, and he and Sam start off.

“Wait,” Castiel says and they stop. “If I come across them by myself and there are wards, I will not be able to do anything.”

“Good. Then you’ll _have_ to come get me and Sam,” Dean says. Castiel glares at him but Dean doesn’t back down. “You’re not alone and you’re not the only one who cares. We’re all gonna keep our eyes sharp, our ears open, and call each other if we find something. Don’t do anything stupid, Cas.”

Castiel huffs and mutters something unkind under his breath in Enochian, but he storms forward and eventually the three break apart to search.

_This guy thinks he’s the end-all be-all of miserable experiences. What a tool._

Castiel has to focus on your fading mental voice. He can hear your exhaustion. _Stay strong_ , he pleads to you in vain while he tries to find a trace of you or the werewolf that the rain might not have washed away, though he can hardly think of something more unlikely. Each step through the woods feels like an eternity.

And then you cry out to him again. He stops and leans against a tree, letting the anguish wash through him. He presses his lips together and listens to your faint, faint prayer. _That kind of stung. I’m okay though. I miss you._

His wings ache to wrap around you. You can’t know about it, but he likes that he can give you a sense of safety even if only your subconscious can register it. But he can’t do that now. So he prays to you to stay safe. _Please, stay,_ prays the angel.


	27. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas distracts himself with memories of better times with you, and picks up a trail.

 

The silence is worse than the screaming. Your voice has been absent from Castiel’s mind and, though he knows it is currently futile and will go unheard for some time, he hopes you are praying to Gabriel. That would at least mark you as conscious and hopeful. It doesn’t help Castiel’s state of mind though. He can hear his feet moving across the ground, and his physical body’s ragged breaths. But he can’t hear anything else, not around him, not in his mind, and he starts to think that you might already be in heaven though he hopes not. Heaven is not where you belong; you belong on earth, watching over the Winchester’s when he cannot, saving people, living your life, teaching him the little bits about humanity that bring him closer to you. To all of you.

He shuts his eyes for a moment to re-center. Then he follows a small, barely beaten path. Heaven is not a place he can remain for long stretches at a time without express purpose. He follows Gabriel’s lead, but even in those places where he is accepted he still feels so much shame. Though, he does not feel much better about his place on earth right now. Even here he cannot fulfill his duties, he thinks. He should have been here, to protect you.

He shakes away those dark thoughts. Hunting near a graveyard at night– you probably have too many of those stories to count, but the scenery and time make him think of one night in particular, when he acted as your ‘shadow’ once. That is, he had stayed close to you, much like a dark image cast upon an object by another object’s interference of a light source. You had smiled approvingly as he worked through the metaphor, and patted his shoulder. “Yeah. Exactly like that, Cas,” you had said with a hint of a laugh in your voice, but your eyes showed approval, and he had nearly basked in it.

As he walks he splits his attention between looking for you and keeping calm with memories of quiet times not as dire as this. Dean’s precious ‘Baby’ makes too much noise to be considered silent, but one time he flew right into the car to find that it was almost eerily quiet. There was no music playing and no talking. He had worried at first but Dean had seemed content, and Sam and you were both fast asleep. Castiel had watched you for a little while, observed how peaceful you looked despite the blood and splatters of gore upon your clothing. He had smiled, but a slight twist of the car had knocked you off balance into leaning on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel had frozen and glanced up out of panic, only to see Dean smirking at him in the rearview mirror. The man had winked and, flustered for reasons he couldn’t explain, Castiel had quickly looked out the window. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave.

He stops and looks around. He’s near the tree line but it’s all very dark further in. He squints. He feels…unnerved. Like he shouldn’t go any farther. This sets off a figurative alarm in his head and he looks around the immediate area. There’s a broken branch, and signs of _something_ in a patch of mud. It could be that some animals had scampered through this area and slid, or fallen prey to something, however…

Castiel leans down and inspects a large root that curves up out of the ground. He sees something in the cracks of the ragged wood and pinches out a small clump of hair. Even after the rain, there’s a very, very faint smell of blood.

After a quick phone call, Castiel disappears and reappears with Dean, who promptly stumbles into a tree. “What the fuck, Cas?!” Dean immediately stands and scans the area. “A little warning next time!”

“They were here,” Castiel says, pointing at the ground. “And there’s a strong sense of…aversion. There is a direction I do not want to go.”

“You think it’s some of those wards the party boy set up?” Dean asks, kneeling to inspect the site.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Dean stands and holds up his gun. “Which way do you, uh… _not_ wanna go?”

“There,” Castiel says and points.

“Great. You go get Sam, I’ll follow the lead.” Dean aims his flashlight and starts to go but Castiel grabs at his shirt.

“I am going with you,” Castiel says.

“Oh.” Dean looks between Castiel and the dark path and bows. “After you then.”

Castiel scowls at him and Dean shrugs. “Go find Sam. I’ll take care of whatever wards he’s got up so you can get a few hits in, and we’ll get our little killer home in time for breakfast” Dean says and slips away before Castiel can grab him again. Castiel grits his teeth together but there are few he’d trust with your life. Right now, he needs to go find the other one.


	28. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re at the edge of death and Dean has good timing for once. Cas is not happy with your predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, especially towards Reader. Double-usage of the prompt for obvious ways to use it (possibly annoying) and maybe less obvious connotations (but nothing permanent). Angsty.

 

You're hanging on by a thread. Or a chain, rather. Both of your feet are broken and if you could just dangle that would be great, but one of your arms is also broken, so you're gripping higher up on the chain with the hand of your good (for now) arm and trying not to shout every time your body is jostled.

“Would you like to count them off?”

Your eyes are shut so you don’t know what he means by ‘them’. He likes his knives but he also likes breaking bones one by one. It doesn’t matter. “Fuck you,” you mumble.

He digs his fingers into your scalp and yanks your head back. Your eyes flit open for a second, but shut again. The left one is painfully swollen and the right one…well, there’s just no real good reason for it to be open.

“That’s not how you beg for mercy,” Alex growls in your ear.

You chuckle weakly. Seriously? “Cute.”

He drags his nails down from where they’re dug in, letting blood soak out into your hair once again. “You are–” He stops and goes silent. You hadn’t heard anything, but admittedly, you aren’t paying much attention to anything other than breathing at this point. It’s a little surprising though when he steps away from you.

“What, need to grab a deer to snack on?” you ask, trying to pay more attention. You hope– fuck, you almost start praying again– that no normal person has found you, because you’re in no shape to help anyone right now.

“Wait here,” Alex says and slips out.

“Har har.” You open your eyes and look around, deflating with a sigh. There’s nothing to keep your interest, which is a shame because you’re trying so hard not to fall asleep. Losing consciousness doesn’t seem like much of a good thing right now, nice as a rest might be. You don’t yet want it to be permanent, no matter how bad things are. Cas would help you if he could, you just know it. A fight like that can’t be the breaking point after all the things you’ve had to endure over the years, and the longer you stay alive here, the better the chance of Sam or Dean–

“Hey killer,” comes a whisper and you jolt, wondering if you really have fallen asleep.

Except you bite back a groan at the deep, throbbing pain in your arm when you accidentally give yourself too much slack. A larger body comes up behind you but he feels different. “Dean?”

“Easy; I’m gonna get you out of here,” Dean says softly and puts a reassuring hand on your hip.

“How did you get in here?” you ask as he tests the chains. Because you’re ridiculously nice and he _is_ saving you, you don’t bite his head off for making it hurt.

“Little broken crawl space in the back corner. Rain loosened up the dirt enough for me to get in.” Dean faces you and looks over your body. You know there’s a joke in there that you can make but fuck it. You’d ride in the Impala over a dirt jump course right now if home was at the end of it. “Before I drag you out of that I’m gonna make sure Cas can get here.”

Dean grabs a knife, and starts digging through the wards on the walls. He gets through two before you realize what he just said. “Cas?” you ask so desperately that Dean stops what he’s doing to come back and shush you.

He looks over his shoulder at the door but no one comes, so he relaxes. “Yeah, Cas. He’s out of his mind looking for you– he was actually just hanging around the bunker, waiting for you to come home when I saw the call.”

“He doesn’t hate me,” you breathe and despite how strong you’ve stayed until now, tears stream down your face.

“No. Guy’s so fucking into you I don’t even think that’s possi–”

The door slams open and Dean whirls around, holding out the knife. You can’t see around Dean from this angle but you see when he tries to switch the knife for the gun, and that’s when Alex attacks. The gun goes skittering off somewhere because Winchester Luck almost always aims true, and Dean gets thrown into a wall so hard that he has to brace against it for a moment. They fight– Alex beating the crap out of Dean– and that happens a few more times. Dean hits a wall and has to take a breath. Dean’s normally more…on, than that. You don’t get what’s happening until you catch his sleight of hand, cutting a small but definite line through one of the circular-shaped wards on the walls. He’s still trying to make a way for Cas, and Alex, thank every deity ever, hasn’t noticed yet.

Alex isn’t content to slam Dean into just walls though. He lifts the hunter and throws him at _you_ , which is something you only barely get to dread when the smaller but still immensely sizeable Winchester collides right with your broken and bloody body. You scream at the pain that comes from everywhere but especially from the ribs you’re sure were just cracked before but must be fully broken now.

Alex rounds on Dean, who now lies prone on the floor, but everything comes to a stop when the very air shifts and you all freeze as it fills with… _something_. It’s as foreboding as that one time you were hunting a demon in Oklahoma, right before a big tornado blew through. But this is something more…localized.

You gasp when you realize what that is and fuck, it hurts, but this is a _good_ hurt. So good you laugh despite the pain. Dean and Alex stare at you like you’re crazy, but if Cas really is that upset, you can’t wait for this next bit. You look at Dean. “You broke my ribs, Winchester.”

Dean slowly grins, showing blood-covered teeth and probably not minding a bit. He nods at Alex. “Way to send up the heavenly signal flare.”

You shut your eyes and pray, _As nice as a dramatic entrance would be, I’m a little delicate right now. Please stow all earthquakes for another occasion._

“I can be subtle.”

Cas is there, a sight if ever you’ve seen him, and Sam is aiming his gun right at Alex. Alex whirls, rage masking everything and he yells in rage, turning full ‘wolf’ before your eyes. “The wards! How did you–”

 

~

 

Castiel isn’t in a talkative mood. He grabs the werewolf by the shirt collar and throws him down like he’s a doll. He might as well be. Castiel reins in just enough of his grace to hit the human way and he focuses on the bastard’s face, both drowning out and causing yells of agony as he punches him. He hits, and hits, and hits. The werewolf scrabbles and claws at his vessel but for all the beast knows of spells and wards, he doesn’t know how to hurt an angel.

“Cas, Cas, _Cas_!”

Castiel glares at Dean but restrains himself when the hunter grabs his wrists. The werewolf is still, but his head remains intact, which won’t do. “Focus; they’re in bad shape,” Dean hisses and Castiel snaps his attention to you, hanging weakly. His fists itch but he acknowledges Dean with a nod and stands. He takes a step towards you.

The creature takes his chance and slips away. Castiel is so focused on you and doesn’t know to be concerned until a shot rings out and Dean screams your name. For a moment Castiel wonders if time has frozen. But then the blood seeps out of the hole in your abdomen and your eyes widen before they fall shut, and you go slack in the chains.

Castiel can only barely hear Sam firing off shots as they match the pace of his run. One, two, three, four. Castiel holds your body and reaches up, breaking the chains with one hand and lowering you to the floor. He puts his fingers to your forehead as the conduit for his grace. It covers and fills you, seeking every injury but there are so many and he is running out of time. There is a reaper nearby, waiting. “Stay away,” the angel growls.

“Cas–”

“Not you, Dean.”

It takes Dean a moment but when he gets it he grits out, “Damn it, damn it!” like you are already lost, and storms over to unload his gun into the corpse. Castiel ignores him. Your soul is weak but trying so very hard to stay here.

“It is time to let go,” the reaper whispers. Castiel retorts by covering you with his wings. It is paltry protection at best, but it makes him feel better, seeing you under the shade of them as he races to heal you. Bones fix back together, infections starting to set are reversed, lacerations mend as though they never were, the bullet is removed from existence, and blood and dirt are no match for the purifying light of pure grace. All of it happens quickly, but as he looks over you he doesn’t know if he was too late. He doesn’t know if you were strong enough to remain. He counts the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

You inhale.


	29. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas just doesn’t want to let go.

 

“Dean, _Dean_ ; is–”

“They’re fine, it’s fine, let’s just…give ‘em both a few minutes, okay? Help me with this…”

Castiel ignores Dean and Sam dragging out the body and rests his forehead on yours. It’s no wonder you need to rest, after all that has happened, and Castiel enjoys the quiet. The almost-quiet. He has always liked heartbeats. They’re such an easy, rhythmic way to reassure himself that the humans in his self-appointed charge are all right. _Thum, thum, thum_. He could listen to it all night, if he had his way. He might.

He doesn’t like that it almost faded. That the damn party he had advised _against_ going to had led to this. He remembers the night before you all had left. He had been so upset at being unable to follow, to do more than loiter outside, and of course he knew you were all excellent hunters but…

 

_Castiel ended up in your room. “You are truly going along with this plan?” he asked plaintively. He had argued with Dean for so long; it had left him drained._

_You sighed but kept packing. “I don’t like it either Cas, but we do have an opening. And even though I’m not fully on board, Sam and Dean are going.”_

_He knew that was the end of it. Since joining the brothers you had never been far behind them– only just enough to watch their backs. He wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have you. Logically, yes, they never took advantage of you, they certainly cared for you, but to Castiel it had never seemed to be enough. They never seemed appreciative enough that they were able to spend almost all of their time with you, that you cared so much for them._

_“You…” Castiel huffed and had to re-word his sentence to be less commanding. He didn’t want to fight. Not now._

_“Cas?” You touched his arm and he looked at you, trying to ignore the flare of pleasure that brought him._

_“Will you be careful?” he asked._

_“Of course.” You smiled. “I promise not to run at any manticores and let Dean dodge any ghosts.”_

_He frowned. You laughed. “I promise, Cas. I’ll drag the boys out with me if I have to, and I’ll be keeping an eye on things.”_

_“Good,” he said. That was all he knew he could get. But as you turned to get back to it, he moved without thought and pulled you into a hug. You liked hugs. But your heart started to beat hard and fast and he could almost feel it against his. He resisted the urge to hold you even closer. Humans needed to breathe, he reminded himself._

_Your body relaxed, but your heart kept a quick pace. If you hadn’t gripped the back of his coat, he would have released you, thinking it made you uncomfortable. But you gripped him just as tight and said, “Cas?”_

_“Yes?”_

_He could hear you lick your lips, you were so close. “I…after this hunt, I have something I’d like you to know. Can you remind me about it if I forget?”_

 

“You have something to tell me, still,” Castiel murmurs and drags a hand down your arm. He doesn’t know what it is but he knows he has to listen. Unlike after…

He turns his face away and winces at the thought of the night he had collected you after the party. It was his involvement in the aftermath that had truly led to this. If he had not instigated the fight he would have been near. You would have not been afraid to call for him when needed.

Now, each heartbeat is a stabbing reminder of his failures. Even after everything he cannot seem to make the right choices. He knows you don’t deserve that– how he treated you. The words feel burnt onto his tongue in a way that he can’t forget.

In your sleep, you wrap your arms around him and he holds you closer. In this moment this is safe. Otherwise, though…he does not know what to do.

“Hey.”

Castiel looks up at Dean, covered in dirt, blood, and smelling of corpse-fire. The man looks exhausted, but there is unmistakable relief as he looks at you. Castiel can sympathize. “Let’s go home.”

Dean leads the way out. Castiel walks with you in his arms but as they approach the car, and Sam, Castiel feels unnerved at the idea of letting go so soon. “Dean?” When Dean turns, Castiel shifts nervously. He’s not supposed to lie, but… “The healing was…immense and after the wards and searching, I am tired. Perhaps you should start driving until I can regain some energy?”

Dean looks at him hard and Castiel fears he is going to be angry. But the other man slowly smirks and looks pointedly at you in the angel’s arms. Then he looks at Sam, who is looking with more concern at Castiel, and gestures at the pair of you. “You hear that? Cas is too tired to fly us back. Needs a little time.”

If Dean has taught him anything, it is to stick to your story no matter what. “That is correct.”

“Oh.” Sam smiles slowly. “You wanna sit up front, Cas? I don’t mind sitting in the back with–”

“That won’t be necessary,” Castiel says and strides over to the car, no longer concerned now that he knows Sam and Dean are ‘messing with him’ and he allows them to laugh as he gets settled, laying you across the seat with your head in his lap.

The car starts, Dean puts the music on low, and Castiel closes his eyes and blocks out everything except for the sound of your heart.


	30. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You share a moment with Cas. A big moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This takes place at the Halloween party on 10/31 because I’m awesome at timelines. Or not.

 

You manage to slip away from the Halloween party unnoticed, which is a feat among such a small group of friends, but Garth has been passed out for half an hour now and Kevin and Charlie are having a drinking contest. Well, they’re both supposed to be chugging their drinks while Dean, Gabe, and Sam cheer them on, but Kevin is mesmerized by how fast Charlie can toss them back. It’s a very good thing Gabriel managed to bring Kevin sans mom because as cool as Mrs. Tran is, everyone has limits and her son getting loaded with reckless hunters and angels probably is a shade past.

Speaking of angel **s** , plural…

You step into the cold night air and breathe in. You make your way up to your spot on the top of the bunker and there, sitting under the light of the moon, is Cas. He looks beautiful here, like he belongs in the soft glow of night. You approach slowly, though it’s not like he needs you to announce your presence. Hell, he probably knew it was you when the door opened. Still, you sit next to him gingerly, holding your drink in one hand as you hug your knees to your chest.

“And why is the guest of honor leaving their own party?” Cas asks, his voice tinged with amusement as he glances at you.

You chuckle. “It’s a Halloween party, Cas.”

“And a celebration of your survival.”

If anybody gets that honor spot, then, you’re sure it should be Cas. He’s the only reason you’re still alive. Multiple times over, actually, but especially now. Still, his tone is lighter than you’ve heard in a long time so you decide to tease him. “Does that mean you don’t have anything to celebrate?”

His smile grows into something… _fond_. “You know I do,” he murmurs and you take a big swig of your drink. It’s really hard not to read into what he’s saying with his tone but oh, you want to. However it becomes easier when he suddenly frowns, stiffens, and looks forward again. You sigh. Always one step forward, then two, or three, or ten steps back…

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “No. And I’m sorry I ever was. I was out of line.”

To say the least. “I’m sorry I snapped back. Just…what was that about?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t know that I can explain it.”

You wait. He looks at you and you stare back, keeping your mind blank and your mouth shut, just trying to communicate with your eyes what bullshit that excuse is. He presses his lips together. But he caves pretty soon and looks away again. “I hated the idea of you making a deal with Crowley. A deal for your _presence_. He didn’t ask for your soul, he asked for you. To stay with him, to be _close_ to him. The idea of his hands on you…and kissing you…”

You inhale sharply at the same time as he looks dumbstruck and says, “I…I was jealous.”

Honestly you’re the one that should be surprised by that. Shouldn’t he have realized this sooner? Then again, you’re the one who just realized a month ago that you were in love with him, after years of being around him, while Gabe and Dean and Sam acted like they stood in the background gnashing their teeth in frustration. You still think they’re lying, opportunistic bastards– who you adore, of course, but who also just look for any chance to tease you. Because that’s what friends do.

Cas is still chewing on that piece of information. Honestly he looks a little terrified. You can sympathize. At least, you hope you can. “I– I think I understand.” You gently place your hand on his and when he twitches you almost pull back, but you settle and so does he. “I think I would be jealous too.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”


	31. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your confession of love doesn’t go over how you imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: There's one more chapter so bear with me >_>

 

“You can’t.”

You aren’t sure what to make of that right away. Granted, you have freaked out at the thought of rejection, but all those worries were very vague and ended with equally murky scenarios of Cas not being able to stand you anymore. Straight up telling you ‘you can’t’ is something you had never considered. And what does it even mean? Is it rejection, or is it really disbelief? Cas sounds desperate, so you can’t really tell.

“Why would you say that?” you ask, now starting to overanalyze. “Of course I can– I _do_.” Shit, that didn’t come out right. “I mean, ‘I do’ as in ‘I do love you,’ not in a weird w–” This is getting away from you. “Why wouldn’t I? Why couldn’t I?”

“Do you want me to list all the reasons?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. Cas stares at you levelly but you’d bet money he wasn’t expecting to hear you say that. But of course you want the reasons why you ‘can’t’ possibly love him, because right now you’d put money on each and every one being utter bullshit too.

“I’m barely an angel; I can’t protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“I hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure Dean and I have said _way_ worse things to each other and we’re still best friends.” This is easy.

But Cas is stubborn. “I’ve done unforgiveable things–”

“If I didn’t forgive you for them then we wouldn’t be sitting here.” You grab his hand and squeeze it. “The past is the past. I know all of these things and I’m saying I love you anyway. I–”

“You can’t!” He insists and is up on his feet, pacing. You leap up too, terrified he’s going to fly away and never come back. You grab his shoulders and he looks at you, sad and anxious. “I…” He steels his expression, but desperation seeps into it. You should be freaking out more but you just want him to be okay. Cas is taking your confession worse than you are. “You were hurt because of _me_. I can’t; I _can’t_ love you.”

Those words sting worse than you want to let on. “Is it just because you think you have to protect me?” you ask, desperate to get _some_ sort of answer. “Because you don’t. You– you don’t even have to feel that way for me too. I thought–” Fuck it; who cares when your ange– when your friend looks so overwhelmed and upset. “It-it doesn’t matter; I just wanted you to know.”

Cas steadies himself. He puts his hands on your arms and for one second you think he might hug you. But he stiffens and releases you, like you’re burning. “I must think on this.”

“Cas–”

He’s gone.

You stand there for a moment, not really certain of what just happened. One thing is sure though: tears are pricking at your eyes and you’re trying so, so hard not to let them out even as your mind works overtime. What does this mean? Why is he so…so…

“Hey Sugarpie!”

Gabriel has the worst timing ever. _Ever_. Luckily he’s behind you so you squeeze your eyes shut and try to will yourself back to normal. “Hi Gabriel.”

“Sooo…” Gabriel sidles around. “Did you talk to Castiel? Or do you want me to put you two on a very intimate episode of ‘The Dating G–’” He stops and his voice comes from your front. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say lightly, eyes still shut. “I’m fine.”

“Uh…you’re not seriously using that line on me right now where I can see you, right? I’m not blind.”

Gabriel has been on earth a long time but sometimes he’s just as dense as his most isolated brothers and sisters. “I’m _fine_ ,” you stress and open your eyes, hoping a decent glare will get your point across so you can slink off to bed and lick your wounds. Gabriel frowns.

“What happened?” he repeats.

You shrug. Or rather, you throw up your shoulders and let them drop back down. “I told him.”

“And?”

“And obviously we’re going skipping in a flower field. What the fuck do you think ‘and’?” You start to go around him but he grabs you and spins you back to face him. He looks gravely serious.

“He is head over heels for you. What. Happened?”

Head over heels. Yeah fucking right. The more you think about it the more you want to cry. So you do. You wipe the tears away and sniffle. “He said he, quote, ‘can’t love me,’ that he needed to think about it, and flew away.”

“Needs to think about–”

“Gabriel.” You sag. “ _Please_.”

He looks at you and you can’t take the pity so you look away. “You want me to beat him up for you?”

You huff a laugh, because Gabriel. “He’s your brother. Shouldn’t you be on his side?”

“I’m his brother. I should knock some sense into him.”

You shake your head and wipe your face dry. “Leave him alone. We’ll…we’ll see what happens.”

Gabriel is quiet, but he comes forward and hugs you and you hug back. Suddenly you’re warm, and Gabriel isn’t there anymore. You look up and around to see that you’re alone in your bedroom. You sigh. “Thanks, Gabe,” you murmur, walk to your bed, and faceplant onto it. Maybe things will look better in the morning.

You can always hope.


	32. All Saints Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Cas have a conversation to clear the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hop-scotching the prompt for word-and-feeling-association. Fluff. Romance. Fluff. It gets sappy, my friends; I hope you like it x3

 

There’s an abandoned church in the woods maybe a mile or two from the bunker. It’s near an old dirt road that you’ve never seen anybody use. In fact it was probably only ever used to get to Sunday service. The church itself is very traditional: white, has a steeple, and is utterly tiny, maybe able to seat twenty people and it’d probably be filled to standing capacity with fifty. Stained glass windows line either side of the building, letting in very little actual light, but they’re still somehow intact while half the pews are broken.

It’s old and drafty and so peaceful that it’s become one of your favorite places in the whole world. Sometimes you like to imagine how it used to be, with people dressed in their Sunday finery, either fanning themselves from the heat or bundling up to brace the cold, but always here every week, in a tiny little chapel off the beaten path that was probably packed to the gills. It is decidedly quieter in real life than in your imagination, and that’s the way you like it. This is yours, now, and in this place there is still something hopeful; holy and idealistic. You don’t have to be psychic to feel it. You take a deep breath and continue your silent vigil, thinking about nothing in the way only utter silence can help you achieve.

Wings rustle and you stiffen, losing a bit of the calm that being here has instilled in you. However you’ve been here long enough that any tears have dried and you have some semblance of control. But then your name is murmured in that same deep voice that still somehow makes your knees weak.

You clear your throat. “Hi Cas,” you say, trying to be fair and friendly. You knew going in that Cas might not feel the same and you're not going to let your feelings fuck up a perfectly good friendship. Sure, it’ll sting for a little while, but you have faith in your abilities to move on. You love Cas and want him to be happy. And Cas is generally reasonable and blun– er, up front. He will tell you he does not return the depth of your feelings (or that he may be open to finding out, though you don’t hold much hope for that) and you will both, eventually, get back to normal.

Though…given how emotional he became last night…

You sigh and slump. Who are you kidding. This is going to _suck_.

“May I sit here?” Cas asks, standing next to you. The stained glass window behind him casts a yellow pall that looks sickly on everything except for him.

“Of course.” You sound normal. Score one for this going in a good direction.

Cas sits next to you, not close enough to touch but close enough to still be in your space. You try not to overanalyze but you know how you feel, and he knows, and you’re not sure how to act. You shift in your seat. If Gabriel asks one more time if he can do anything, you’re going to have him take you back to October 1st so you can punch yourself in the head.

“This place is wonderful,” Cas murmurs and looks around with wide, admiring eyes. You suddenly forget why you’re upset when you see the beginning of a smile on his face.

“It’s pretty peaceful,” you agree.

You both lapse into silence. You’re staring ahead again, very studiously trying not to seem bothered by anything, and Cas seems…content. For the most part. After a few minutes he seems to remember why he’s here and he sighs. “I often wonder how you, and Sam, and Dean, manage it.”

You wait. Nothing. “Manage…what?”

“Living a life filled with endless decisions. Where you must somehow make choices and live without regret.” Cas is staring up at the ceiling, his eyes pinched back at the corners in a sort of sadness. “I have had so few decisions to make by comparisons and yet…I have so many regrets.”

You snort. What group of perfect (or sociopathic) humans has Cas been hanging out with? “That’s just life, Cas,” you say softly, trying to lessen any perceived insensitivity. “Everybody makes bad decisions along the way. Good, bad, and in between. The bad ones just stick out more.”

“Doesn’t it frighten you?” Cas looks at you and you freeze, caught in a bright blue that the sky must envy. “Having a decision to make and not knowing which choice you might regret?”

“I guess it…depends on the choice and the consequences.” You clear your throat. “You never _know_ how something is going to turn out. You weigh your options and you make the best decision you can.”

“Like your choice to tell me how you feel.”

Your throat closes up. “Yeah,” you say and try to keep your mind blank for the inevitable next part. He studies you for several long seconds. His lips turn up in a small smile. A kindly gesture to ease the pain, you think.

But then he moves forward, connecting his mouth with yours, and you don’t have to try to keep your mind blank– you short circuit and all you know, have known, will ever know, is this. Your lips are almost chronically dry these days from the oncoming winter and you're sure Cas wouldn’t know what Chapstick was even if he carried five pounds worth of it in his pockets. Somehow his lips are still the softest things you can ever remember feeling.

Your eyes burn from the air and you have to consciously force yourself to blink. In the split second it takes to shut and open your eyes he doesn’t disappear. He does, however, pull back, and you barely suppress what surely would have been the most pathetic whimper ever released by a human.

“I know I likely do not deserve it, but will you let me explain myself?” Cas asks.

“Uh huh.” He could tell you to take a hike to Canada and you’d be walking before he finished his sentence.

That silly thought leads to the serious realization that he’s not telling you to hit the road, Jack. You blink some life back into yourself, sit up straighter, and somehow manage to tear your eyes from his lips (seriously, way softer than they look,) to his eyes.

He turns his body to angle towards you and you do the same, brushing your knees against his and waiting. Cas takes a moment.

“I have great regrets. I have done terrible things,” he says slowly. “Made bad choices and been led to do things I cannot undo.”

His eyes drift down in memory and you bite your lip to keep from interrupting. However you do slide your hand to his knee as a light reminder that you’re here for him. He responds by taking that hand in both of his, holding it, squeezing lightly. He looks at you again. “Sometimes I’m paralyzed by fear. I wonder if everything I see and think is a manipulation by Naomi or her underlings. Or I think that there is some dire consequence to what I am doing. So I busy myself by running errands for Gabriel, or helping you and the Winchesters. I focus on the things that help and do not hurt, but even then I…make mistakes.”

He grips your hand but his gaze is too intense to look away from. “This is not the first time I’ve thought of the idea. Of being with you. Some months ago I realized that what I was feeling for you might be…could one day be…” He swallows. “It was a sudden realization that I knew had been building over the years. It felt natural. Inevitable. Terrifying.” He looks at the pew in front of you. “Like I was falling all over again and I didn’t know what it meant.”

You don’t dare breathe.

“I couldn’t possibly choose that; choose to drag you down with me, so I assumed it was fate, or something else. I even made…surreptitious inquiries into the possible involvement of cupids.”

Oh no. You use your free hand to cover a small smile. You remember Lt. Castiel Columbo. ‘Surreptitious’ is not a part of his normal vocabulary.

“The cupid I spoke to was emphatic against their involvement and even advised me against taking any further involvement with you. At the time, I agreed. And so I tried to remain distant.”

Suddenly you really, really want to stab a cupid. Or pick up a bow and arrow and turn the tables.

“It didn’t work.” He shakes his head. “I can’t stay away from you, or Dean, or Sam. So it festered. It became something awful, until that night with Crowley– and I snapped. I just…I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether to be selfish, to claim you for my own and keep you from any semblance of normalcy you can grasp in your violent life. Or whether to…let you go. I thought on that so much last night. I agonized over what I should do.”

Your throat is filling with a lump of tears. “I know it would be nice but you can’t have everything, Cas,” you say and swallow. “You can’t have an honest choice but account for every possible variable. You can’t control it.” You put your other hand on top of his and grip both hands for dear life. “But sometimes, the things you don’t see coming, the things you can’t control…maybe sometimes they aren’t great. But sometimes they’re wonderful.”

“Like you.”

You blink several times to clear the water welling in your eyes. “Huh?”

Cas looks so soft as he takes his hands to brush away the tears escaping onto your cheeks. “You are the most wonderful thing I never saw coming. You are stubborn, sometimes petulant, fierce, strong, kind, protective, and so, so blindingly beautiful that your soul shines like a beacon. I care for you so much that I thought I could deny myself your presence because I hurt you, got you hurt, only to find out that I _can’t_. I can’t be away from you. I don’t ever want to be away from you.”

You don’t know what to say. Or maybe you have too many things to say. Either way it’s hard to breathe. When he lifts your hand to his mouth to press a kiss, for a moment you do forget how to breathe. You hold his face with that hand and he holds it there. Like you’d ever remove it.

“Of all the painful things that can come of this, not having you would be so much worse,” he murmurs into your palm. “If you’ll have me I want – _Father_ , I want– to be with you, in any and all ways that you may want me.”

You take a few moments to breathe. You're tempted to take a few more, because he kind of deserves that after last night, but you honestly can’t stay away for long. You surge forward, wrapping your arms behind his neck, and you never, never want to take them back. He meets your kiss, just as open and longing, and his arms around your back hold you tight, just as unwilling to ever, ever let you go.


End file.
